I’m feeling weird about blogging again.
It’s nothing new, just the same concerns and arguments all over again. The purpose, the need to have a blog, is something that I don’t actually understand, yet.
I am afraid to analyze it too much. If I need to write, why not keep a private journal, or one that only my closer family and friends have access to? Why can’t I just make stuff up and write fiction (not a blog of course)?
I am afraid I may be trying to clarify my identity….create my own reality show with me as the star and editor. This is who I am. Seriously, I’m 33, why am I still having an identity crisis.
Maybe it’s a middle child thing, a wife-of-the-rock-star thing.
Maybe I just like to write and the best material is all around me!
When I was thinking about starting a blog, I talked about it a bit obsessively around my friends. One of them complained that her friends’ blogs seemed like perfect little scrapbooks of family life. She said, “If you do it, make it real.” I took that to heart. It’s what I always wanted to read.
I have dozens of half written journals from the past 16 years or more. Journals I used for a few weeks and then quit. I’m not sure why I always started a new journal, maybe I would get one for a birthday or Christmas, or maybe I would buy one feeling I needed a new start. Anyhow, I have several of these.
When I reread them I’m struck with two thoughts 1) this is really great writing and I wish other people could read this and 2) OMG where do I hide these!
But I guess I’ve always believed that honesty brings healing.
I’m in process.