God bless this blog that makes me write when I feel heartbroken and makes me schedule posts when I’m not in the mood. God bless this blog that forces me to sit down at my computer twice a week and spill my heart simply because of a promise I made years ago to write. God bless this blog. Even when it hurts.
'I haven’t written in a while,' I tell my brother. It’s something I feel kind of bad about and something I assume will be magically resolved by me continuing to voice that sentiment with no action behind it.
'I really need to be writing more,' I say when catching up with old friends. It’s been a little off my radar. Things came up.
'Everything just keeps coming back to “that” and I’m not ready to write “that” yet,' I justify to my closest confidantes. It’s not that I don’t want to write. I just want to be able to write about literally anything else.
And every time I try, I keep coming back to this thing, this event that I don’t want to write about. Right now there’s a bottle neck of this BIG TOPIC that needs written about that I seem more intent on dancing around and so instead I call my best friend and say, 'Remember when I was a writer?'
It’s a sarcastic and self-deprecating comment that I think nothing of but in that moment I get a response I’m not expecting.
'What about the blog? The newsletters? What about all the writing you do for The Smile Project?'
I mean they’re right, in a way. But also gosh is that annoying.
'Okay so I’m writing, but it’s tailored. It’s different.'
'It’s still writing.'
God bless this blog. God bless this thing that even in moments where I have been so fed up with writing, has found me writing. God bless this messy, not very SEO friendly, always scattered blog.
I’ve always been drawn to writing. Nothing has ever made more sense to me. It’s how I sort through life. It’s how I process. It’s how I dream.
A series of events toward the end of 2019 took away this voice. Writing - this thing that had always just made sense, always made everything better - suddenly seemed impossible. I closed my journals, stopped editing old drafts, and took a step back.
Recently, I was thinking about how much that hurts a heart. To give up something you love. I was feeling frustration at myself for stepping away from the art that has given me so much. That’s when I was reminded of this blog.
This beautiful, chaotic, marketers-worst-nightmare blog.
Throughout all those months where I felt like I’d gone silent, all those moments where I’d given up on poetry and art, all those empty pages, I still sat down, twice a week, and opened my heart to this blog.
God bless this blog. For keeping me honest. For giving me space. For allowing me time. For letting me heal. God bless this blog. I am so ridiculously happy it’s here.