I have used this blog as a journal. As a venting place. As a way to remember the silly, little things, that may otherwise slip through the cracks. I have documented pregnancy, miscarriage, depression, school, funny stories, death...LIFE.
I used to be driven by the comments and the views. I wanted to write to my audience. I wanted to entertain. That was easier when I could tell stories about the 2 year old dumping fingernail polish on the carpet, or the 6 year old asking LOUDLY if I got pregnant in Walmart. People LOVE a good "stay at home mom loses her shit" story. (There is something to that whole, "misery loves company" thing.)
Lately, I have been writing more for me. I don't know who my audience is anymore (or if one really exists on a consistent basis), but this blog has become more of a dumping ground for my thoughts. I see and feel and experience so much lately...that I need a place to get it out of my head. It may not be as popular among the bloggy world to read...but it is great therapy for me.
Sometimes...sometimes I KNOW I need to write. I need to get all the crazy out of my head, before it eats me alive. Before it drowns me. I constantly have a million things pinging around and it can get quite tiresome. With that said, sometimes I sit down to write and...nothing. It's not a writer's block. It's not a lack of material. It's more that all the thoughts and opinions and venting that I want to do just won't. come. out. The thoughts won't bubble to the surface and explode, like I really wish they would. They get all tangled and I end up just sitting...staring at the screen.
At the end of the day, I'm thankful for this blog. I'm thankful for the stories and pictures I have captured. I'm thankful for the people I have "met" because of it's existence. I'm thankful for the timeline of my life, that I've created. I'm even thankful for this...the ramblings of a woman who has too much going on in her head...so she doesn't really say anything at all.
It is all part of my journey.