So it all started when I got fired and I realized I didn’t want to just another rebound job, falsely following another golden paycheck. Truth is money never turned me on; all I really wanted to do was write, travel and take photos along the way. This was, as my boyfriend clarified, called “my dream.”
(He is a role model for anyone who doubts they could live their dream. Not only does he believe in creating the life you want to live – he creates it and lives it.)
So I thought now was as good a time as any to try to create it. I started a blog and tried fruitlessly to commit to writing. But because I thought this was my public portfolio of sorts, I became hypercritical of everything I posted. Instead of traditional, short blog postings, I ended up posting random long rants in between what was happening in my life.
All the while, I was writing a lot, but publishing less and less. As time went on, life complicated the blog – or got in the way. But it was the other way around – this was the meat of the story and I wasn’t sharing it. My little boy and I moved in with the boyfriend, I got another job and left that, I got pregnant, I got nauseas, I had a baby … This was LIFE: Exclamation Point and while I was writing it all down, my perfectionism was preventing me from publishing it.
All my writing seemed incomplete. It seemed like non-stories; descriptions of events, emotional rants, whining in words. But only I judged it. I would open three files at a time, hoping to make one good enough for the blog. Then I would read them, come to the realization that they were better than I thought, but they still needed work – and I would file it away for another day.
This pattern would continue. I’d get a few moments, I’d open some old unfinished documents, read them, feel better about my writing, reaffirm that I will blog more often, commit to being less hard on myself, and then close the documents, blog untouched.
I can’t remember how many blog postings were dedicated to saying, “I’m going to be a better blogger and not be so hard on myself.” Seriously it’s no wonder I am such a commitment-phoebe.
So now here I am, at the end of one of the best years of my life and almost none of it is published. I am making a (pseudo-public) vow to write more, even if the quality is less. I will also back-publish pieces that I wrote documenting this year and others of my life. Raw emotions and anecdotes that have colored my world – and judgment free, I will put them on my blog to chronicle. Because that’s all it is; a written memory of the days that were.
Here’s to doing what I say. Oh yeah, and I have a new look for my blog. White background rather than the black, larger fonts, larger photos – and a new header (thanks to the boyfriend who took my obsessive doodles and funky-feed them).
Cheers to life: writing about it, reading about it, blogging about it and not judging it!
Note about the photo: Me, very happily jumping in front of the lighthouse on Monhegan Island in Maine. This was when I truly believed I could make my dream come true. Two years later, I’m starting to wonder, with a hearty dosage of doubt.