This blog post was written as part of a competition sponsored by ProBlogger, Shoebox Timeline and The Good Guys
Trying to explain why I write is like trying to explain why I breathe. Sometimes I think I’m done with it, out of time, ready to walk away, and then slowly my fingers become itchy and a story comes which I have to share you because I think you will laugh or relate, or get me that little bit more.
Or feel like someone gets you…because we’re all really the same. Oxygen, love, compassion, that’s the stuff we thrive on. And words.
The inspiration for this blog has changed and morphed much like my children who I initially wrote of almost daily. Their cuteness, my tiredness, their jerkness, my crankiness, my love, their arms wrapped around me in the night.
That was before they got big, and life morphed into this new phase.
I started blogging because motherhood was suffocating me in a glorious way that I couldn’t grasp. I yearned my whole life to be a mum but then it wasn’t enough. So I wrote.
I wrote feverishly for the first year or two. I wrote recipes, I wrote with humor and heart and simply relished the possibility that I was interesting and entertaining, whilst connecting with these other interesting and entertaining people who didn’t want to smear poo or banana in my hair (although what happens at ProBlogger stays at ProBlogger, right???)
check out my Shoebox Timeline slideshow… it’s pretty rad
I had wonderful experiences, famils, lunches, brunches, awards ceremonies. So many opportunities to meet and chat and grow.
The connections I made were intoxicating, as was the copious vino we drank if ever we were in the same room. Them bloggers sure can put it away. And dance. And laugh. And talk….all those words.
All these people online, all these new friends writing away like me in their lounges, bedrooms, and their cars while their children slept, it was almost as though our fingertips touched through the keyboard in a handshake that said – Yeah, we’re in it together.
My inspiration was connection, my inspiration was my family, my inspiration was not to drown in motherhood. To breathe in life other than my domestic shituation which was slowly crumbling through my grasp as I felt less and less interesting or entertaining at home.
Then my inspiration changed for good. The days before he packed his boxes and moved out for good I knew that my inspiration needed to change to a fiscal one. A tangible one… connection wasn’t enough. Now we needed to survive for real, not fearing the metaphorical drowning any longer, only the real possibility of the whole ship going down.
So I wrote. I sold the words, and I wrote day and night. I pitched and I wrote and I wrote and I pitched and by the time it started to work the focus had shifted. It had to. I wrote more than ever, but it was like running a sprint all day every day and when it was time to run to the bus to get home I had no air left… metaphorically speaking. I don’t catch buses. I really don’t like them. I’m ok with trains though.
But I’m saying I was out of breath, the breath required to speak the words and share the stories here with you.
So, is it over, you ask? Are we breaking up?
Nah, it ain’t over, it’s just changed. Because life does that. It has to.
My kids have grown so I can’t write all of their embarrassing stuff anymore, their stories have become their own now. Unless they’re total jerks and then it’s a free for all and I’ll totally write about how I melted down, or they melted down and how that’s just life.
I write because it has become who I am, not just something I do, and maybe one day I’ll morph and grow and turn into someone else, but until then, I’ll share the words with you when I have the room to breathe.
I’d like to say a mega huge thanks to the sensationally talented Cass Eager for allowing usage of her track “Stand Together” on my slideshow. Love you, Cass.