Posts Tagged: dem bones
Hello friends. Its been more than a while and all the things that I thought I wanted to do with this blog have changed.
So many changes.
Much to do with personal happenings and relationships in my life that I shouldn’t write about becasue, well, they are not only my stories to tell.
I’ve been thinking about starting an anonymous blog. For reals. My journal (for actual pen to paper writing), has been my cathartic weapon of choice , but it’s starting to feel as though I’m not holding it right. It’s not filling the gap, I’m yearning for something more.
It has been a few years now that a couple of close friends, who know all the stories… (and even then some they don’t, as I myself am just starting to figure them out) …and they keep telling me. Write them Selena. Use your gift, in the ways in which a traditional story-teller would. (Not a blogger.)
That last part I say to myself.
What am I looking for you may ask? Community. I have always found solace in community. There are others out there with me who struggle with the same sorts of things that I struggle with, there are those who have stories much like mine.
There are those out in the world who are ‘misfits’ just like me. I think I want to find them. Because whether some people may believe so or not, there is power, there is healing, there is regeneration to be had by using the power of you voice, of your pen – your keyboard…to share the stories that don’t shine. The ones that crumble and heave.
Because at the same time those stories are hope. They are strength. They are survival. They are me. While I may not be ashamed of who I am anymore, the whole of me – all of my stories don’t belong in public sphere with my face next to them. It definitely doesn’t feel right to talk or hint at them in this place anymore.
This is where I share the happy stories. The shiny ones of my children. Of my hobbies. Of my loves. All of the good and vastly wonderful parts of my life. Perhaps even the not-so-good and the undeniably hard parts of mothering. Those sorts of topics belong here.
Perhaps this explains why things have been silent here since before the New Year, and if vague blogging is what these first few paragraphs could be defined as – so be it. This is after all, my small corner in the universe. I’m struggling to define a new space here and define a space that is real, that is me.
So. I’m not going to talk about this anonymous blog thing again and if it happens – it happens. It will be my way of delving into chapters and who knows – perhaps one day it will become a book, when times are different and more stories will be okay to share. Memoirs take decades to write. Having a private blog, for me – seems like a good way to start the process.
As for here…gosh. I’m thinking of a white slate. Starting fresh. Stories and pictures that my children can look back on and know how much they were loved. The recipes and DIY projects that come easily to me. An editor of mine recently told me, just share what you’re good at. Screw what anyone else thinks or comparing yourself to others.
This must be my new mantra. I am all-too familiar with the soul sucking, dark-art of comparison. I’m a mom who on most days…most days, it’s all I can do but to love-on my kids. Make sure they’re clean, well-fed and nurtured. That my house isn’t in complete and manic disarray. To keep on top of the myriad of things it takes to run a house-hold and keep a family happy. For whatever reason, I feel like a failure if ‘that’s all’, I am able to muster.
It’s as though I need to be great multiple things in order to consider myself a worthwhile, intelligent, contributing human being. A person who makes things happen. That used to be me. What I’m starting to realize is that I’m making a whole new wave of things happen that aren’t defined by the amount of career goals I meet or ideas founded; they are defined by the greatness in which I mother.
Love my partner. Love myself.
Perhaps that sounds cheesy – but right now? My biggest task at hand is finding peace within and exuding that grace to bestow upon my loved ones. To mire through our recent struggles and my own – and to come out on top. That is all. This is most important.
In the wake of the constant doing, that I used to attribute to being a natural part of who I am – there has been a break in the noise.
To present new truths amidst the old ones; that I can’t ignore anymore and which require my full attention.
Until the next. Thank-you as always – for reading.
Close to an infinite amount of patience.
That’s what I want.
I’m working on it. Slow and steady, in these cramped quarters.
Open the windows, let the cool breeze drift in and the palm trees elegant tinkle of rustling, waffle on in.
Accept the bad weather. Cuddle my teething sick baby. Speak calmly to my toddler, the embodiment of all that is testing.
It’s in these brief moments of stillness that I’ll meditate. That I’ll pray.
For grace to come swimming back to me.
This post is sponsored by Disney Baby. I’ll be joining the Disney Baby blogging team next month, and look forward to sharing these kinds of stories (projects/ideas/etc) with you over there! Stay tuned for more details!
I’ve noticed quite a few, “Top Posts of 2011″ and the like from writers in the blogging community.
I however have decided to choose from the much smaller collection from whence this blog began.
Why? Because I started out as an irregular, complete novice. Who still does not post everyday. However, come this year a whole lot of things are changing. The face of this site for one. Come February it’s going to be shiny and new, a hub for all that I do. More on that later.
This collection here? Is for me to share with those whom want to get to know me better, or those whom I really, really, like and want them to know me better. The awesome part about that is that it’s often a combo of the two.
It’s also a source of inspiration, for me – to come back to and meander over how I’ve evolved as a writer, found my voice and developed my mad blogging skillz. Because. Like I said. I plan on doing much more of this. In many ways. As an advocate, as a story-teller, as an ambassador and paid writer. But most importantly, for me and other women like me out there. Because the writing stuff? It heals. It empowers. It unites.
So. This curated list will be the first step into my second coming. A more frequent, constantly learning, embracing the everyday that is me. As a writer. Gone the name acronyms will be, it’s about to get straight-up – the edgy that is me, REAL in here.
Without further ado…to serve as reminder to me. Kicks in the pants to me and FYI’s for you. So pull up a chair. Pour yourself a glass of vino. (I’m publishing this in the eveing people, as I pour myself a glass). Dig in.
I had 6 too many drinks last night.
That was a regular occurrence, and then some, ‘back in the day’. Always trying so hard to forget. And then I stopped. I came to some honest truths about myself. I stopped ignoring that I was smart enough to know that a path of self-destruction would not lead to anywhere I really wanted to be. Not rocket science, easier said than done.
Ours is not a conventional love story. This is the the story of how we met. I’m not going to get all poetic in describing how we fell in love because, well – I don’t feel like rolling that way right now.
Life has a very strange way of crushing one at times. With love, blessed beginnings, nasty-sickness-that-just-won’t-go-away, deadlines, defeat, waves of overpowering depression, doubt, joy, never-ending-to-do-list, fear, mayhem. I’ve been indulging in escapism to ignore, y’know; the procrastinate to make it worse syndrome.
I’m told I’m too hard on myself, but – this. Is. JUST. HOW. I. FEEL. As you can tell I am pulling myself out of a wee bit of a dark hole as of late, despite the beauty (and madness) trailing out from the holidays and the bliss of my recent engagement and the most joyful news! It turns out that those doctors really were wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Baby no. 2 is on the way! I’d say that the birth of 1 and expected pregnancy of another is proof that I’m quite fertile, yes? That and the BSM has some stellar swimmers.
Has come to pay me an ever. So. Sweet. Visit. Arrooogaaahhh. The good part? I was not contagious. After all my homeopathic/natural medicine, rest, clear, non-sugary fluids by the gallon, several home sweats. With oils. After all of this I still felt like the Grim Reaper was at my door. Today is the first day I felt well enough to do more than barely scrape by my absolute responsibilities. Of which there are many. Thanks to good ‘ole penicillin. So. The benefits of believing in both science and nature I shall reap.
What no words can paint. You, my Little Big Spirit Running; my Leader From The Sky, my prodigal son, have bequeathed unto me a blessing of the highest order.
Your presence, your trust, your life, your love.
As I sit and flounder over adjectives to describe the ample hole you have filled in this well-traveled soul; I mire against the trite. My love for you is vast and huge and deliciously intense. Although, to write about YOU is for another day. That deserves a dedication all it’s own. This day is for me to talk about a conception, I never thought I’d have.