It’s finally arrived! My last day of my daily blog posts. I’m rather proud of myself for being able to blog every day this month and I thank you for stopping by, reading, and sometimes even interacting by leaving comments or liking the posts.
I started this little one-month experiment as a way to reconnect not only with my blog, but, as cheesy as it sounds, to reconnect with myself. Blogging sometimes helps me figure out things in my life. Words and the act of writing can sometimes make order out of chaos. The very act of writing alone organizes as you think of what to write next, what word to use, what colors to paint your world with.
There were days I didn’t want to blog, but I blogged anyway. Sometimes I’d start to panic and think “What if I run out of things to say?” but then I’d sit down and some kind of topic presented itself, as if it was just sitting there waiting for me.
My only rule when sitting down to write was to be genuine. And allow myself to be vulnerable too. It allowed me to post in Lunch With Strangers about meeting my father for lunch and the sadness I feel about letting go of a relationship-that-isn’t.
I wrote about struggles with my son’s behavior in There’s Something Wrong With My Kid and the shame I felt for breaking a plate and screaming out of sheer frustration. And then I heard from dozens of people who wrote to me and said: “Yes. This is happening to me too. I’m part of the Broken Plate Club”, and I was comforted by the idea that maybe I’m not a monster.
I wrote about the things I love in I Love The Way, as an exercise to remember the good in the world when there is so much darkness.
I had days where I made myself laugh, even if no one else did. I loved my Love Poem To Ulgra by Hammertoh the Dwarf, and the idea that my stress level is indicated by my legs’ hair growth.
I re-posted my favorite blog about my difficulties with friendships, and my love for my girlfriends in To The Women I Have Loved And Lost. And I remembered both my worst and best Thanksgivings.
All in all, this month has been a journey, a bit of an adventure, a bit of a nightmare, all wrapped up in a wonderful life-burrito. And I thank you, truly, for reading.
For a long time, I’d given up on thinking of myself as a writer at all, or questioned the point of even trying, but your reading this, your comments, your kind words to me, gave me a little more faith in myself. A much-needed recharge of spirit. And I really mean Thank You.
The blog’s not done, but the daily posts are. I’m going to put my energy this month into rewriting my novel. I hope you’ll check in occasionally, and I’ll occasionally post when something happens where I feel moved to write about it.
I’m actually a little teary right now. It’s probably hormones, but maybe not. Maybe it’s that this has been a great experience. I’m proud of myself for doing it. And I’m astounded that so many of you followed along with me as I put words into order and posted them out in the world. I believe this is an act of magic. Magic does exist; it just doesn’t look the way we expected.
So thanks for the little bit of magic, too, and for helping me to believe.