I want to reel in all of my dangling lines and shake the bait off into the water, watching it drop into what will become the center of a black hole. I'm tired of trying to catch a big catch or tempt a wandering eye.
The sharing of my story is beginning to feel like an inhibitor to the living of my story. And who am I, that I should share? Maybe I'm a private girl after all, and I just want to sit on the dock and watch the waves sweep towards the shore.
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There is a boy in Mia's class who calls her gorgeous and a girl in Lauren's class with whom she wants to be best friends forever, notwithstanding the friendship these two sisters share, sitting on the same loveseat, legs tangled into knots, discussing the merits of halloween costumes. Landon lets go of my legs where he's been clinging and then he's standing -- all alone -- like a pillar of capable squishiness, until he notices he's come untethered and sits heavily down, crying to be held. My biceps and triceps and other -ceps are well-defined right now, from carrying and lifting so constantly, and it occurs to me that I should take pictures of myself like a bodybuilder, minus the tan, to prove to my future soft-armed self that I was once strong. But then there are those days that I have sole care of the kids from sunup to sundown and beyond, all the while cooking and cleaning and erranding, and I remember that my strength lies in more than that which can be photographed. So I fall into bed and dream erratic dreams and burrow into Justin's shoulders where he's curled away from me.
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Each day is nudged by one thousand crests and tides, and I want to see them. I don't want to feed them to the computer, where they might be eclipsed by other people's waves, or worse -- ignored. As long as I keep them just for me, they are magnificent swells, foaming after a crashing decent.
Update: I've almost convinced myself to take this post down or change it to be less whiny and grumpy. Nobody's forcing me to write, there's no mafia going to hunt me down if I suddenly quit being online. But it's a strange sensation -- wanting to record and share, yet also wanting...not to. Anyway, I'll leave this post as-is. Maybe some of you can relate?
Every Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional
living by capturing a glimpse of the Bigger Picture
through a simple moment. Join the Bigger Picture Community at
Brook's place today! Reflect upon something simple — or simply magical —
that’s resonated with you this week, then share it with us!
You heard my Heart's Cry! Thanks for being real.
ReplyDeleteThat's me -- irritably real :) Thanks for understanding.
DeleteI almost started my post today with the same sentence. How can anything even remotely interesting or inspiring come from the "blah" that has been me the last few days. But I enjoy the connection to this group of writers. Truth be told, it's a highlight of my week. So I tried to give a little something ... to stay connected. And to process ~ putting my heart/head/thoughts into writing helps walk me through what's going on. So, whine and grump away. Not all simple moments are positive ones. And the bigger picture isn't only composed of inspiration... What writing did for me this morning was remind me that sometimes the bigger picture is about community and comfort. {also, and for what it's worth...you'd be missed. my guess is that your voice is stronger than you know}
ReplyDeleteI think I often write for the same reasons: to walk myself through what's happening, and how I feel about it. I write to record and to remember, I guess. And because I'm compelled to write, to see if I *can* write ;)
DeleteI'm glad you're here, Adrienne, and I'm glad you're part of this wonderful community :)
Huh... every week I feel like at least one person has been reading my mind. This weeks it's you. I have thought so many times about disabling my facebook account, shutting down my blog, and disappearing from the virtual world. For some reason, that feels like a suicide as if I would cease to exist in real life if I no longer existed in the fake one. What's that about? I never did find an answer. I almost quit blogging last winter after I convinced myself that no one cares to hear what I have to say. I took a two month hiatus but returned this spring because I simply HAVE to write. As far as the rest of it, I'm not on twitter and I disabled the facebook app on my phone so my activity in social media is now minimal (because although I truly believe that my blog has meaning, facebook status updates are another story). Anyway, I hope your virtual future doesn't include an end to blogging. I agree with Adrienne. You would be missed.
ReplyDeleteYou and I seem to be on the same wavelength quite often, Lisa :) Thanks for understanding.
DeleteI have to write, too, though -- it's just in me, and it will need to get out soon, I think.
I do relate. Completely. Sometimes creating - be it in writing (on blogs) or sewing or whatever - is exhausting. And all this includes parenting. How often does the mundane take over and we find ourselves void of feeling? Or how often does that inner critic come up and tell us to not create? To leave good enough alone? I think you are gifted with turning it into something beautiful. *hugs* to you. People are listening. :)
ReplyDeleteAwe, thank you Amber. Your words are a balm.
DeleteDon't take this down. I love it.
ReplyDelete"The sharing of my story is beginning to feel like an inhibitor to the living of my story."
I know that feeling so well. Often when I don't blog often it's because I'm feeling that way. But there's this strong pull to writing and sharing our spaces. Being heard. But then there's the whole thing of people who don't get it reading... and that just upsets me. I don't know.
I hear you, though.
What is it about an online presence that makes us feel this way?! Thanks for your encouragement, friend.
DeleteI can totally relate...Each day I'm torn from being totally uplugged to being constantly plugged in. As much as I complain about the extra work from blogging, and being "involved" in things I don't know if I could give it up ... I'd miss you ;-)
ReplyDeleteIt's probably not a matter of me giving it up so much as it is of me managing my desires better. Or something :)
DeleteSarah, every week you write sheer poetry that could only come from the heart of someone who is completely living her life. The nuances that you are able to flesh out and make so vividly real, those are not the words of someone disengaged in the moments that make up the day. Who are you to write? You are an amazing mother who is documenting her fears, her hopes and her love for three children who are so very lucky to have this journal--this ongoing love letter from their mother.
ReplyDelete.... How did you get in my head all curled up and such?
ReplyDeleteUltimately...they're always for you, whether or not you decide to share. Having said that, I should also say: share so long as sharing brings you joy, comfort, peace, or gratitude. When you give, in love, you receive, in love. There's no need to push things when there's nothing to be met but vague expectations.
ReplyDelete