You know how we're always debating in the blogisphere about what to share and what not to share and that's "their story, not mine" and all that stuff. And how you have that "blogging raw" thing (which always makes me think of a blogger wearing Lady Gaga's meat dress, but there you go) and the "authenticity" thing and all the other " " things because here in blogland we really, really like to label stuff.
Anyway. I'm not that kind of blogger. I'm not a big sharer in my personal life either - a Pollyanna rarely is (even the lapsed ones). I'm an open book when it comes to my thoughts and opinions, but the day to day running of a life is not something I feel the need to share. The more meat we wear, the crueller the headlines.
So even though I've mentioned a few things here and there, you won't necessarily know that we've had a super-stressful time here in Maxabellaland over the past several months. My blog became really neglected and I chose to tell you that that was because I was busy blogging elsewhere (which is true), but not that I just didn't have the spark to write here either. The problems were big but they weren't really mine to talk about, even to this wonderfully supportive community.
That's the trouble with a supportive community. Sometimes it just makes you cry that it's there. Undeserved, unimaginable, unfaceable.
Long story longer, while I realise that I've just managed to pour my guts out here without actually spilling anything, I just wanted to let you all know that things are better around here. It feels like the messy, heavy blankets have been pulled back and the crisp, scented sheets are perfectly made underneath, ready to slip into.
Thank you for being here right now to read this. I know I've pushed the friendship with this adored community many times. I used to be that nice (ish), neat blogger who blogged every day at the same time like clockwork, but I just can't seem to find my groove these days. My house is messier too.
I realise now I've gotta carve the groove, because right now I remember how madly I love it here. How in-my-skin my blog is and how much it might have helped me to keep writing over those icky months. I miss the wise, insightful, supportive, raw comments we share. I've missed getting my hands dirty in the rich earth that is writing "just because". Blogging is bloody hard work if you want to do it well, but writing is not.
When it's in you, you've just gotta write. Just sit down and do it. A spark of an idea and onto the page it goes. I might not do it in my raw meat dress, but I'm going to do it.
What makes your own ink dry up?
This post is dedicated to Karen. Raw honesty in friendship is always so appreciated. This week, I'm wholly grateful for that.