I was about to go away to England for three months, and at my going-away party, my sweet sister handed me a bundle of letters. Handwritten (this was 2008 when handwritten was sort of still a thing 😉 ) notes from friends and family, with a date on the front, when I was to open it. For the next three months, I would eagerly anticipate my next letter, what it would say and who it would be from. The night before, I would get it out and put it on my nightstand so I could open it first thing the next morning.
Letters from home were like a breath of fresh air when I was somewhere foreign, scary, exciting, and new.
The other night, I laid my head on Troy’s shoulder and had a good cry. Let it out. I know in part it was pregnancy hormones (can I hear an amen?!) making me more sensitive. But I was also just tired and finally said, “I’m tired of wishing my creative work was someone else’s. I’m tired of my skin. And I’m stressed about selling our house.”
You see… I get caught up in trying to get where I want and what I want, that I forget to enjoy the moment. I shared how this blog had become frustrating and I didn’t know what to do about it. Troy knows me – I have to create. It’s in me.
But somewhere along the way, I have lost the meaning of what I want this blog to be. Primarily? An outlet for the inner dialogue in me to escape. I’ve worried about stats and who actually reads this, to the point that I compare my work to other bloggers, moms, and creatives. You know that quote that says, “Comparison is the thief of joy”…? Well, yeah, it’s true.
I have a blogger’s confession to make – I want to be like everyone else’s blog. Well, the successful ones. Along the way I have tried to make this more successful, monetize it, and always be “inspiring” – to the point that I have lost the joy in it. Writing here feels more like a to-do these days than something that fills my tank. It could be part of becoming a mom and finding a new normal, so I know there is grace for this new season I find myself in! 🙂
Troy responded something like, “Maybe it’ll just be you writing everyday life and someday our kids will read it, like a letter from Mom.”
Those words brought me such relief it was astounding. You mean, I don’t have to MAKE this into more than it is? Thank you Husband.
Letters from home. That’s all I want this to be.
So, dear readers, will you forgive me? Forgive me for forcing words down your throat in any way – all in the name of making this blog “successful”. Forgive me for hitting your inbox or smart phone with anything but my heart. I am honoured you are here.
Is it my dream to have a New York Time’s Bestseller? Yep. I’d be lying if I said no. Is it my dream to help my family financially, and do it creatively? Yep.
But I’m tired folks. Tired of being creatively frustrated. Tired of comparing my gifting. Tired of trying to make me into someone that perhaps God hasn’t yet molded. Or perhaps He has all together different plans. How’s that for honesty? 😉
My dream now for this blog is that it will be like letters from home. Whether it sounds like Grandma talking, mamma spouting, or your sister yacking lovingly – I hope that you anticipate the next one like a breath of fresh air. I love everything that “home” is, and I’d be honoured to share ours with you.
Here’s to a new pen, new paper, and unopened sweet new letters.