Ummm, right here.
Yes, everything’s fine. I’m still here. And life is beautiful these days. You know, when you don’t read the news and all it seems.
It’s just that blogging hasn’t been fitting in so neat and tidy this past year or so.
My mind hasn’t been thinking in blog posts these days. In case you don’t have a blog (I know, right?), this actually happens. When I’m actively blogging (as in more than once a week), I actually think in sentences. I frame an article, intro, major points, etc. as I think. And the ideas are prolific. As in multiple blog posts formulating daily. And of course, the key is to find the time to sit down later and remember and capture it all without it all becoming too messy and confusing…and occasionally plain old lost. But this whole thinking-in-blog-post-form actually happens, at least to me. Somebody in the comments, please tell me this is normal :).
Anyhow, this past year the time to sit and type has become so sparse that when I do sit down I draw a complete blank. So I stopped.
I stopped trying to capture it. Stopped thinking of things to share with you all. Stopped thinking in blog posts.
And truth be told, it’s simplification at its best. It’s pure living without written reflection. And that’s a mix of good and bad for me. Good because at this point simplifying anything and everything feels right. But bad because I do a lot of deeper digging when I put my thoughts to paper, or the screen (yes, that sounds lame, but so it is).
Anyhow, there’s been plenty of thinking going on in this clunky ole’ head of mine. But not in paragraphs. Not in posts. And maybe it’s that I’ve been reading less blogs. Taking a blog break, I suppose. That and I’m kinda partly a wee bit of a perfectionist. So if I can’t fully tune in with something, I’m not into half-assing it. And so this space has gotten eerily silent. But no worries. It’s never silent at my house. Or so it seems. Heck, even when the kids are finally all asleep you can hear the mice pulling insulation out of the walls. Or the lone car driving by past the river out back, turning the bend, radio blaring in the distance. Or the electrical line. Yes indeed. It’s actually, and quite ironically, quiet enough here at night in the outdoors to hear the electrical buzz if you stand near the lone line that crosses the property.
But back to thoughts. And blogs. And time passing.
I’ve been pondering what happens when my two girls leave the home to go to school down the road. (Just to clarify, it’s not boarding school or anything, just the transition from homeschool to somewhere-else-school.) Because simply put, my dream job, the one that fell into my lap a few years ago–homeschooling my kids here–has been phased out. Yes. I’ve got two girls who eagerly want to go to “school school” (as we call it). And though I’m quite torn up about it (internally), I’m simultaneously excited for them. Excited that they want to go and be their own independent people. Excited about their naivete and their bravery in making the decision. Excited because I love love loved elementary school, though when I consider my options of home life during that period of time I can kinda see why.
But anyhow, I’m excited for them, and am shaking off the reality and letting it settle in that my life is about to look quite different next year.
The different that isn’t bad, but oh [read with a painful sigh], is different. And that of course carries with it the work of change. So, I’m caught up in convincing myself that change is good. That change will offer new potential, new opportunities as well. That change is inevitable. But at this moment I still kinda feel like the parent who is demanding that their child go to bed for the millionth time, meanwhile the child is ready for the next step up. And it goes on like this for a few weeks till the parent realizes that lo and behold, things are a-changin’, kids are a-growin’, life is evolvin’.
And yet I keep thinking, hey, with a bit more time next school year, what should I take on? What can I take on with one little guy in the house who will most definitely be missing his sisters? And heck, truthfully, I keep wondering how I will survive parenting one child again. One three year old child. Man, that’s serious work.
Yes, one kid with no siblings home to play with. Ack. The transition is doomed to be rough. And the acquisition of siblings was quite a doozy of a transition for me, but as soon as the benefits of sibling play began, I phased myself out of playtime-mama to the point that sometimes I wonder how I’ll do it again. Seriously.
Well, that and I was really really digging the older kid homeschool learning. Oh my. So much fun rediscovering topics I’ve wanted to have an excuse to read up on again. Continents and stars. Geology and reading. It’s seriously my cup of tea. I’m going to miss having my lovelies here all day on their learning journey.
So, as I ponder my new course in life–home with my boy with a first and second grader in school–I’m left wondering what to do with myself.
And lately I find myself void of any immediate ideas.
I wonder if I should try writing for publications again. And then I hold back. Not ready.
Start blogging again? Perhaps. This is a start.
But all my bigger ideas feel far away still. Things I can’t quite to from the Lost Coast easily or readily with a little boy at home and two girls returning tired and energized each day.
And there remains an emptiness that I haven’t felt in ages, or in eight years more accurately, that creeps in and pervades everything. A sense that motherhood is somehow not enough after homeschooling drops from the routine. A sense that I should be doing something more official. A feeling to that I want to be doing something else mixed in to that which provides me absolute joy and satisfaction when I’m not in the throes of my crappy days.
And I know that these falsehoods that creep in aren’t true, nor am I even being fair to myself, but sometimes I suppose we all beat ourselves up as we transition in life. And I suppose it’s a little bit part of the process. To finding the flame that awaits to ignite the fire inside.
But as I listen for my next step, my next dream, my passion–I hear nothing. Just a silent heart. A happy one too, but no burning desires to “become” something else at the moment.
And I’ve found this past year that reading the many blogs I was keeping up with (how do those blogrolls grow so quickly?!) actually started to feel cluttered itself. So many blogs to keep up with. So many to comment on. And my worst offense–I was beginning to relate to these other snippits and confuse them with my own desires. I started to feel like I wanted to do everything I read about. Began to feel too tied into the web. Constricted even. Like my own ideas were draining instead of growing.
So I finally had to cut out the blogs. Stop gazing into other’s homes and feelings, gardens and farmyards. (I still read a few once a week or so, but am taking that much needed break.)
I’ve found blogs to be such a wonderfully inspiring place to be these past few years. But right now I need to listen more closely to my own heart. And cut the muddle of what everyone else is doing. And perhaps, just maybe, I’ll discover my next path.
Anyhow, anyone still out there? Drop me a note if you don’t mind. Maybe it’ll motivate me a wee bit. This felt good. Cheers!