When I started my blog two years ago, I was convinced that I would be the mouthpiece for all mothers – those who work and stay-at-home alike.
Wrong. Dead wrong.
As it turns out, my “you don’t fit neatly into any category” identity followed me into parenthood as well.
So I pondered what to do and where to reach out. For years, I had received praise for my writing, but I never took that leap that makes great writers, well, writers. I kept a private journal, but I was convinced that everyone did that. No one needed to read my words.
But pregnancy and endless career shuffling (as a result of small children) changed the game. Suddenly, social circles became too transient to grasp and it seemed that I would forever bounce between my job and my kids.
Frankly, I knew if I didn’t do something – and soon – I would lose myself entirely.
The first six months of my blog were purely experimental. Would I have enough ideas to write? Would I attract a stalker? Would anyone actually read my writing? I figured out how often to post and carved a niche.
The second half of my first year brought drama, as friends, family, and Facebook subscribed. Some say it is healthy to have people that you know in real life read your work – to maintain balance and ensure consistency. Truthfully, this type of “support” fuels emotions that can alter (and hinder) the creative nature of your writing. But even in the midst of my first taste of blogging rejection, two posts went viral.
And I kept writing.
Growing pains characterized my second year of blogging, but they have forced me to rethink my purpose and how I will protect myself from the inevitable doubters. After all, if these people exist in all spaces at all times, why would my blog be the exception?
In moving forward, I confess that I am not a mother or teacher who has all the answers. My life is messy, but I embrace how every challenge refines. I blog to keep my skills active and my dreams (i.e. sanity) afloat.
And, perhaps most importantly, to speak what every mother wants to say:
I’m still here.
One Year Ago: To Grow, Write