First, about the peas, a small clarification. When heating them without water, don’t use butter, just pour them into the pan and put on a lid. They steam using their own condensation. It was the fancy bag of peas from Trader Joe’s that already had butter on them. Sorry about the confusion. I hope you haven’t all been putting on weight from cooking your peas in butter over the last two months.
Yes, it’s been two months since I last posted. My cousin emailed me earlier this week to inform me that it had been exactly two months and two days since I posted. A gentle suggestion to get back to my regular schedule. Ahem.
Regular schedule, you query? And we all laugh.
I know, I know, my posting is intermittent at best. I’m consistently inconsistent. Long stretches of silence. In the spirit of openness and disclosure, and possibly some vulnerability, let me tell you why.
First, this has been a very difficult year emotionally. Lots of stuff going on. Most of it is shared story – other people share it with me – and I can’t in good faith speak publicly about someone else’s private business. Interestingly enough, I have made a shift this year from being happy to keep my private stuff private, to really really wanting to talk about it. To be seen and heard and vulnerable.
I generally write here about what I am thinking about at the time I sit down to write. So as I’ve been working through all of this stuff (which has been huge and consuming), I sit down to write and think, “Can’t write about that, can’t write about that, or that. Or that.” Which leaves us with a lot of silence.
(I’ve also wondered how much other people like to read an ongoing account of a person’s inner life. The process of working through grief, for example. I think that generally we as readers don’t mind a post here and there about something heavy like grief, but if it was to go on and on in blog form as it does in real life – would we tune out? Click away?)
Second, scheduling. Writing in the evening is generally not a good idea. I get all wound up and have a hard time going to bed at a decent time. And it takes me half of forever to write a post. I’ve tried to whittle it down to half an hour to make frequent blogging more sustainable, but it seems I average at about an hour a post. That’s a lot of time to invest in something. Especially when it has to be an hour without children. Those hours are very few and very precious and have a lot of things clamoring to be chosen.
Third, existential queries. What is my purpose here as a blogger? What is my writing voice? What is the theme that is coming through my writing? How do I want to interact with the world in this space?
Devo has been telling me for months, maybe even years, that he thinks I should change the title of my blog. He doesn’t think spinning in my teacup reflects me accurately or adequately. He’s right, of course. I’ve long outgrown spinning in my teacup. But how to find a name that I won’t outgrow? Or, if that’s too lofty a goal, at least a name that captures the essence of right now?
At which point we circle back to the above questions. In summation, what on earth am I doing here?
I’ll tell you what I do know.
I do know that I cannot give up the title of blogger. And by that, I actually mean writer. Whenever I think of throwing in the towel or letting bygones be bygones, I can’t let go of this. This and singing and yoga. And maybe my doula dream.
I do know that people read what I write and, at least occasionally, it brings help or light or laughter. Or something. I know that people read and appreciate because so many have taken the time and made the effort to tell me so. (Thank you.)
I do know that I have reached a place where I am ready to move outward again. The baby years are reaching their end. It is time to forge a place for myself in the world outside of home. I want to engage with the world in the way that only I can. I want to work creatively. I want to make a difference in people’s lives.
I’m just not sure what this all is going to look like. Right now it looks like me posting this before I can talk myself out of it.