I have been away from my blog for a few months, and it's all so different now. like a completely new era in tech land. so far I have spent the past 18 minutes simply trying to remember how to a) turn on the computer; b) get it to talk to the internet; and c) log into my blogging account. unfortunately, I somehow have two or possibly three google-related accounts which apparently are not allowed to talk to one another, so I have a crazy time simply trying to decide who I am so my trusty old blog can recognize me.
last summer I set out to be a contributing writer for a neato Christianity-meeting-culture website (at least I think that's still what we call it). I contributed two or three times, then fell under the homeschool bus. today I suddenly realized I should probably withdraw from the contributing team--which sent me into a panic that I need to start contributing STAT! or my relevance as a writer will have officially withered and died.
yes. I use melodrama here, to make a literary point. in short, I am having an identity crisis.
I never have defined myself by motherhood; choosing instead to remind myself and anyone listening that I am MORE than the sum of my offspring. in the past five years, I have grown to identify myself as a spiritual development writer. yet my job description consumes me: homeschooling mama of three diverse creatures for whom I am the primary influence. together we stand at the launch of a great homestead experiment.
|A Pinch Point in Escalante National Park, Utah|
fragile flower (hey--at least my inner critic compares me to flowers)
you love writing, therefore it's time to stop.
this is always where you stop when about to really get the hang of something.
since the speaker/writer conference I attended last summer, I have followed a dozen or two of my new friends as they grow their blogs, guest post all over the internet, and develop their ideas into really well-reasoned content. meanwhile, my portion has been to spin in place, trying to figure out my next steps.
in the positive column, I have been invited to speak my heart to two different groups; I have written a 5 part small group study on the Levitical law; I developed and taught 3 different classes at church, a total of 6 or 7 times; and we have gotten through at least 75% of a school year (never mind that we are 90% out of time). so there's that.
but my first love, the writing? thbbbbt.
i've lost my stride.
I know too much about building my audience, honing my message, and the importance of social media as a tool for my message. now I fear to post anything because I can't figure out my focus, can't figure out how to migrate my blog to a better platform (haven't tried, for that matter), and don't know that anyone really cares what I talk about anyway. do I even want to blog, when my greatest high comes from speaking to a live audience?
apparently my stride has also, in turn, lost me. because this whole login challenge underscores my efforts to start over in a strange new world. and I wonder, do I really want to come back here? do I really have anything to preserve? because maybe if I just turn off my computer, my blog, my facebook, I can get to the real business of living.
gardening. moving. having parties. learning about horses. playing in the dirt with my kids. reading books. without the constant feeling that I ought to be talking about this.
only, then who would I share all my melancholy thoughts with?
I guess you're stuck with me. because me without a melancholy outlet is probably an over-wound person, not fit for serious company.
this concludes our broadcast day. I'll be going to bed now, hoping for a less melancholy tomorrow. thanks for listening.
and last thing? I'm really fine. just working my way through that tight place, looking forward to the rush of salt air when I get to the wild ocean.