It’s been so long since I last posted without thinking about how my words would be received.
I continue to write in my head all day long, but seldom do I pluck the words out onto the keyboard to share here on the blog.
Because I worry that people won’t understand what I mean, or I’ll come across as obsessive or neurotic (both of which I actually am!), or I’ll seem like I’m over-spiritualizing things, or I’ll be another mom whining about her life online, or no one will care.
I’m getting tired of those excuses.
I started this blog as a creative outlet for myself over 10 years ago. I had a slow job that left me with time to write or post nonsense and that’s what the early days of this blog were. So incredibly random, but I just didn’t care.
Eventually I let my mom know about my blog, and she passed it along to my Aunt Becky. I think I told my sister about it early on and Andy too, of course.
For a long time I kept it very low key. I felt vulnerable letting many people have access to the trivial things I posted here.
Part of me really misses the days I posted here only for myself.
But it was refreshing to just pop into the blog to post whatever the heck struck me at the moment.
I want to get back to that.
I want to stop worrying that what I write won’t be interesting or relevant or pinnable.
I want to pour my thoughts out, if only to record things for myself.
I want to share photos and memories of these years with my family. Crazy times we’re in with 3 children under 5 and a husband in medical school.
I don’t want to forget these days. The incredibly difficult ones and the overwhelmingly joyful ones.
I want to remember looking at sweet two and a half year old Avery in her castle nightgown and matching Ariel purse and “glass slippers”.
I want to remember the wide-mouthed smiles that Drew doles out so freely.
I want to remember the eccentric outfits that Grace picks out and hearing her reasoning for each and every item she’s wearing.
I want to remember how the doctor gushed for a full 5 minutes about how special and amazing Andy is as a medical student. How they reference him whenever talking about exemplary med students. About how they would MAKE a spot for him to do his residency if he decides to go into family medicine and doesn’t end up with a military placement. I was at the doctor’s office to be treated for whatever awful cold/bronchitis I have, but I got so much more than medical attention. I was nearly moved to tears hearing a well-respected physician praise my husband so wholeheartedly.
I want to remember this house. The way it’s almost always messy. Crumbs on the dining room floor and smudges on the table. Toys strewn all over the living room no matter how hard I try to corral them to the girls’ rooms or the basement. I want to remember the basement and how it looks like a flea market because of all the crap I hoard and cannot seem to scale down no matter how many bags I donate to the Salvation Army.
It might be messy and chaotic and too small for our growing family, but it’s home. It’s our first home and it’s not perfect, but the memories it holds are priceless. Bringing home each of our sweet babies and welcoming them all into the same pale blue nursery. Our bold red kitchen, gold dining room, and blue living room walls have witnessed so much joy, heartache, fun, hospitality, sacred times, and silly times with our family and our friends.
This blog is also a home of sorts for me. It’s my own little corner of the internet and I want to get back to writing for me.
I feel relieved. Making this decision and moving forward unencumbered by worry of what anyone thinks of my posts will hopefully free me up to capture my life. Raw and real.
It may bore you to tears, and that’s finally ok with me.
I hope this is the nudge I’ve been needing to post more often. Let’s see how it goes!