I got a new computer for Christmas. Why, you may ask, is this relevant almost three months later? Because when I searched for my blog file in Microsoft Word yesterday, I realized I had never transferred it from the laptop I no longer use. This forced me to acknowledge that I haven’t written, aside from work-related stuff, in months. I’m not saying I’m some masterful writer or anything, but I do enjoy putting pen to paper — well, fingertips to keyboard anyway. Sometimes I’m compelled to write; I have the yellowed journal pages filled with teen angst to prove it. But that hasn’t happened for a while, a long while. I got a new computer for Christmas, but I don’t have anything to say.
It makes me sad to think I have neglected this blog — which turned three on March 16, by the way — for so long. I tell myself it’s a good thing because I typically write when I’m sad or having trouble coping: If I’m not blogging, it must mean things are going well for me personally and professionally. I make lots of other excuses too. I’m not writing because: a) I’m burned out from working so much, b) I’m too busy with my kids’ crazy schedules, c) My “me time” is training for my next marathon or d) All of the above. But there are always extra hours in the day if we truly want to find them.
I may not be blogging about my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not struggling, as we all do. I’m trying to be a dedicated worker, a supportive mother, a loving wife, a sympathetic friend (I fail miserably in the last department, I know, because the other three roles take up so much time). The worries occupying my mind the most, as always, are of my children. But now that they are teenagers, I don’t feel comfortable writing about them. Their stories are theirs to tell; maybe they always were.
Of course, that is yet another excuse. If I’m not writing because I can’t share my kids’ stories, maybe I’ve lost myself in motherhood again. Maybe my life is out of balance. Maybe I’m not writing to avoid delving into my own thoughts and feelings. Maybe something is missing. Maybe the something is me. Maybe I am not making time to write because I am afraid of what I might say.
Anyway, I know I’m rambling here. My apologies, but I am more than a little out of practice. I guess what I am trying to say is that writing and I are on a break. I’m not ready to end our relationship, but I definitely need some space. It’s not you, dear old blog, it’s me. There will be other Christmases and birthdays. Maybe I will write about them. Maybe I won’t. Please stand by.