when i started this blog, i wanted it to be a place where i could safely share my thoughts and experiences about being a young female and a single parent in my generation. even though i wasn’t fully aware of it at the time, this blog was an attempt at creating my own tribe of mothers and single parents. abandonment and loneliness are fears i have struggled with my entire life, which only intensified when i became a mother. i wanted others to know that they weren’t alone, but that i wasn’t alone either. but this project didn’t quite turn out that way…
i have a love/hate relationship with time. while on one hand it makes me mad that with its passing i only get older, on the other i’m so thankful that it moves on, forcing me to move along with it. moving along signifies growth, change, and, hopefully, healing. i think back to who i was five years ago and i am hardly the same person. sometimes i think there isn’t a resemblance at all. i thought differently, believed differently, handled adversity differently, wrote differently. when i read old posts that i wrote (and have since been taken down from the blog) i realize how much i have grown in my understanding of pain and its role in my life. back then i lacked the patience to really process my pain, however that may have meant for me.
ironically, i hid behind my writing. i wanted to immediately shake off whatever it was that was making me feel uncomfortable, make some sense of it, or make sure people knew in a very public way my side of the story of my own life. because i knew they were talking. i knew the mean things that were being said, how i was being doubted, and it shook me to my core that they had it wrong. i thought i was writing for me, i thought i was the main audience, but i wasn’t. everything i was putting out was for others first, whether they deserved to hear my story or not. those were the years i was the most broken.
i didn’t have a healthy relationship with my writing and art. in some ways i was a bit arrogant about it. it never really crossed my mind to calculate the risks involved in writing about certain things or people. it took a few breakups, messups, and, frankly, some time away to open my eyes to see the fine line between telling MY story and still somehow protect the other characters that play a part in it. i’m still deciding if certain risks are worth taking.
i tell you all this because things may continue to be slow and quiet around here for a while. my writing for the public has been picking up a bit lately. i’ve even shared a few short pieces on my personal instagram page. but for the most part, i’ve been taking the time to write for an audience of one: me. no pressure, only pure pleasure. my vision has become more focused on what really matters. at the end of the day, all risks considered, i am ultimately the only one that needs to be okay with my writing and anything i produce during my other creative ventures. creative is who i am and i need to create in order to be a whole person. echoing the words of one of the world’s greatest, Brene Brown, so much of my self-worth lies in the stories i tell and i am not in the business of abandoning them. someone’s opinion of my story is not a prerequisite to my healing. which i guess means that some backlash for anything i do is inevitable. but the driving force for all that i put out comes from a different place now. whatever i am now willing to share publicly will come after i’ve had time to process it and decide that it’s something i really need to tell.
so i’ll be back. i am not rushing the healing process this time but when i’m ready i’ll know it and you’ll hear from me again. i might stop by to say hello once in a while. i’ll probably just post photo updates of my little for the time being since this blog is also about him.
or, who knows, maybe i won’t be back at all because i will have joined the circus. or did i already do that?
to those who are still here because you genuinely care, thank you. thank you for helping me find the strength to do what’s best for me and not feel guilty about it.