And why do I blog
Since I was ten, I have kept a journal. It currently includes about eight volumes. Why so few? My creative bursts come randomly, and my need to journal presents itself in waves. In a way, this blog has become my next journal, though I struggle with how real I can be on here. Obviously, I do not wish to embarrass myself or my family, but the bloggers I admire the most put it “all” out there.
Most people I know this blog exists, and I am ok with that. I also know that a few close friends read it to learn how I’m doing, because our lives have become so busy we rarely get time together. Being wives and mothers of small children takes the majority of our time. Our lives, as beautiful as they are, become so rushed we often forget to find time for ourselves. There are also people who read this just to make fun of me and find fault in my perception. That is ok. I don’t have to hide who I am or pretend to be something I’m not anymore. I feel free in that way. Journaling/blogging is a very healing experience for me. Knowing that my experience or outlook may help someone else is relieving. It makes the parts of my life I don’t understand have a purpose. Writing and speaking help put in words the events in my life that don’t make sense. This helps me process and heal, and for that I am grateful.
I don’t want to care about what others think of me. I was taught that it was none of my business what other people thought or said about me. Of course, there will always be a part of me that wants to feel accepted, for that is the human condition. I know if I approve of and accept myself entirely, then what you think becomes far less important. I tend to yo-yo back and forth between these states as my spiritual condition wavers. When I remember that no matter what you think, I like who I am, I always feel like a weight has been lifted.
All these years, I have had to remind myself that being kind and showing love to others is unconditional, and I do not require their approval to do so. I love because I am passionate about doing so. Because I know what it is like to not feel important. I am kind because, in my family, kindness is an important value. Kindness and love have been passed down generation to generation. If you met my family, you would see that the love and kindness they extend does not even stop with our neighbors but also includes all living creatures. I was raised to love and be kind to family, friends, and every animal. I love because it is who I am.
This all comes to mind because I have been pondering “Who am I?” When what makes me “me” is taken away, what happens next? When something such as my marital status, career, or physical ability defines a majority of who I am, then who am I when it changes? There is a process of healing and changing that occurs after this. Time spent wondering what makes me “me.” What are my strengths, and where will I be most helpful to my family and society as a whole? A large part is grief and the process of letting go. Another part is taking on a new identity. Redefining myself and my purpose. I have seen this occur when a person goes through divorce, medical issues, loss of a loved one, career change, loss of a job, or even when children grow up and move away. Each one of these relationships demands a certain amount of daily time, energy, and effort. When one ends or changes, a window of time opens, and I find that people retreat into themselves to figure out what to do with it. Where do I best invest that effort and energy? How will I define myself in this next chapter of my life? Who do I want to be, and what am I going to do?
I don’t know how many people are out there that are asking themselves right now, who am I? I do know each one of them is not alone and that it is ok to heal. It is ok to take the time you need to figure it out.