Posted on Tuesday, November 10, 2015
I think this blog has become somewhat of a phobia for me. I’m afraid that whatever I put on it becomes permanent. So, I mocked it. And made it say silly boring things, just to show it that I don’t care.
Which is silly.
And then I’d wake up the next morning and dread seeing comments to my typed diarrhoea and would feel guilty because there are still readers who visit me (thanks!), so I would not reply because I was ashamed.
Which is silly.
Truth is, I’ve lots to say. I write bits of things down every so often and think ‘I could write about that!’ but then a day later it seems silly. Three years ago my best friend Wouldye died, and I wanted to write about it but I couldn’t get past the fact that my words wouldn’t do him justice so I didn’t.
Then I had a baby, and I would love to write about her and her quirks, and the little journey she’s travelled so far and the inner goo that is my insecurity and fear of her growing up… describing in intimate detail my favourite two hours of every day in the morning, once the kids have gone to school and I am left with her snuggled up in bed, she cluster feeding from my breast and the blankets thick around us protected from the world. I’d love to describe that but it seems silly.
I have a friend who appeared out of the blue last week. She is one of those people who can see things. She laid some cards out for me (which I was initially cynical about) but declared some truths that hit home. She told me to stop over thinking things. She taught me to let go. Since her visit amazing things have happened, so I will grow up, and take her advice and stop the inner negative voice and tell it to go and sit in the corner.
So, I declare that from now on, I shall post a blog at least once a week, even if it’s pure pants… it’s better than nothing, and it’s really not silly at all.