This morning my status on Facebook reads, “Wondering if I should blog this a.m.?” I’ve been asking this question of myself a lot lately. When I was writing the eight part series One Hundred Fourteen Days that begins here and the blogging as my mother slipped from this life to the next (beginning here), I felt compelled to write. Never sure if it was for my own mental health or for the benefit of the reader, every day I would effortless express my thoughts on paper.
The blog I wrote after my Ash Wednesday experience was so appreciated by the church I visited that they have asked permission to reproduce it and distribute it. Thrilled, of course I said yes. First, they were going to put it in their newsletter but decided it should stand alone so as not to get lost when the newsletters are gone. If you didn’t read it already, go here for the original version.
A former employee came into my office once and said that she struggled with the demon of external validation. I said I do too. Every day I check far too often to see if I have any comments on my blogs. I check google analytics obsessively. I want to see how many visits I had to the blog. I look to see how many pages they read and where they live. I want to know which particular blog was read the most.
Recently I googled - how to promote your Christian blog. Among the responses was a place called Amen Me! Since it was free, I signed up. My insecurities control me, I go and check if someone gave me an Amen. None so far.
My husband doesn’t read my blog but if I am particularly happy with the blog I will read it to him. It hurts my feelings that he doesn’t read it on his own. His usual comment is “very good.” I am never really sure if he listened and thought it was good or if it was just his auto-response.
Maybe that isn’t fair to him. He does occasionally make a sound when I’m reading my blog that seems to indicate that he like what I wrote. His bland very good is just him. He isn’t much for expressive words. I wish he were. Nonetheless, he has said enough for me to believe that he thinks I write well.
I asked my husband last night while on the flight from Detroit back to Sioux Falls, since you seem to think I can write, what do you think I should do with this? I lamented that this would be just another one of the things that I find out I do well that then goes flat on its face and amounts to nothing.
Maybe my blogging is just about me. Maybe this is just an electronic journal that lets you into my life. Maybe I should just keep a private journal. I’ve gotten into some trouble that I can’t afford with some members of my family about my blogging. I think they would like to muzzle me but I resist that muzzle. Whenever you write about your own life, the lives of those you love and interact with will always be involved. They just don’t see it like you do. I've always been the odd person out.
I’m wondering today what is the point of this blogging. I’ve been told that I am too transparent at times. That is probably true. To tell me to stop is a bit like the proverbial leopard changing it's spots. Maybe I could just do some inspirational stuff and hope someone gets a spiritual boost out of it. I could babble on and on about my opinions.
I’ve blogged today. I’ve been the Joyce who shares her heart transparently. This has not been a fishing expedition for compliments or comments. This is just where I am at this morning. I am wondering why I sit here and blog. I am wondering if it serves any purpose. Nonetheless, I enjoy it.
I’ve been told more times than I can count to write a book. A book? About what? I’ve even been told it is my ticket out of South Dakota –a ticket I covet many days.
What do you think?