Slipping

Not blogging reminds me of gaining weight. It is a slow and gradual process and I try not to look at the scale that reminds me the numbers are increasing (or decreasing as the case may be). Out of sight; out of mind. Denial. My head feels like its gripped in a vice, pinched in a concussive shroud. Exhaustion is a formidable deterrent.

Paralyzed in the night by anxiety, I wrote myself a permission slip to take a break from blogging. And just when I thought this cloud of “bloggers block” would not lift, I had a breakthrough: I need hot water in order to think clearly.

I was at the gym, sitting in the Jacuzzi when the ache subsided slightly and a sliver of clarity emerged bobbing to the surface. I actually do have a medical condition that may be contributing to my blog-absence, but I really believe I have reached some sort of maximum thinking capacity. My brain is over saturated. For which there are many contributing factors that will sounds like rationalized excuses here. But, I am truly overwhelmed.

Sometime before daybreak this morning while I was wedged in fetal position at the end of my bed, pinned by flailing limbs and the heavy absence of my business class husband hurdling through the air on a Boeing 727, I resolved to try and get something posted today. Anything. And then I wondered if I should apologize. But would these words emit a tinny echo reverberating only against my keyboard? Because to whom do I owe an apology? (Bear with my rhetorical rant – There… there you are! It does feel like I am talking to someone after all.)

But for a few moments I wondered. Does anyone care if an unfit mother moans against a chorus of endless monotony? (You know, a variation on the ole proverbial tree in the forest... .)

My point is I vowed to keep a blog for myself. And along the way I began to care if anyone read it and the pressure to perform contributed to this anxiety that whacks me in the head and causes this pressure and pain. But I don't write just for an audience.

It was in the early 90’s while reading Milan Kundera’s, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, that I was ironically inspired by the concept of graphomania and began to keep a journal. Almost daily for over ten years. I have these tomes stored in boxes in a bench on the landing to the second floor and can feel the breath of all those years sigh as I pass. They pulse like my head and whisper back the repeated threats to read through and edit them for someone else to read. I often think if I never get to them before I die, I want my daughters to have them. (But in the event of an untimely demise, not until they are 18. The escapades of my youth are not even “PG” fare.)

So I am apologizing to myself.

Self, I am sorry. I am sorry I have been ignoring something to which I committed.

And if it entertains anyone else along the way, then join me. But this time I set aside to write is for me. A gift.

And I never want to think of this sanctuary as a burden so if I am sloppy and tired and let the days slip by again, know that this promise to myself is stronger than me at times.

And you would not believe what I have accomplished by NOT blogging.

Comments

[Kelly O]

It's a very odd thing, blogging. I don't feel neglected if you don't post, but when you do, I feel like I've gotten a call from a friend. (By the way, my friends and I rarely talk on the phone.)

I know how it is. As I write this short comment, my husband is trying to tell me something about the financial aid he's applied for, and my son is trying to go potty with lots and lots of help from me, and he just got his fingers slammed in the door by my daughter, who has been getting more and more wound up and screamy from the cookies her dad gave them after dinner. It's taken me 20 freaking minutes to write this. I'm about to lose my m-f'ing mind.

[Megan]

I'm still here. :)

[mamatried]

Sorry for the funk. Seems like no one is blogging these days which makes it hard(er) for me to avoid doing my actual work :)
Glad to see the post!

[karrie]

Still here too, and full of blogging and general funk and angst here as well.

[radical mama]

Sounds like the right blogging attitude to me. It's authentic. :)

[radical mama]

Sounds like the right blogging attitude to me. It's authentic. :)