I talk a lot. Like, so much. For someone like me, born with an endless supply of words, writing has never felt like a talent so much as a necessity. If I don't do it enough, my experiences pile up inside and get all squished together and mixed up and turned upside down until I have a stomachache.
And right now? Well friends, I have a five-alarm, post-second-helpings-at-Thanksgving sized stomachache.
It's been many years since I've written for an audience other than my journal. And while journaling can be momentarily cathartic, in the end, what my words truly want is to be witnessed. Held. Seen. Related to. They want to be a bridge between us. They are not a quiet piano concerto. They want to be a howl at the moon.
The problem is, all I know how to say is everything.
I've had blogs before. And I've offended people with my blogs before. I've lost sleep over wondering what people think - or worse, finding out exactly what they think. I'll also admit to having grown way too attached to the idea of being one of those bloggers that gets discovered by the New Yorker and offered a column which then becomes wildly poplular overnight and I'm forced to quit my day job and be the sassy voice of a generation of perimenopausal women until my story is turned into a movie starring Drew Barrymore as the cool but slightly unhinged mom and you know what I just don't have the time for that right now I really need to focus on my family and my health.
In so many ways and for so many reasons, it's easier to keep my words to myself. But for every critic who blasts, "Who are you to say. . .," there are ten beloved sisters who say, "Wow you just put words to that thing that's been going on with me that I haven't known how to express thank you so much."
So despite the fact that I'm working full time while getting a second master's degree, or that I'm parenting two young children while perpetually anemic, perimenopausal, and
tired, or that I'm terrified to say the wrong thing and usually around the corner from my next mental health crisis, here I am. I have a belly full of words and a head full of clouds and I need to write to sort it all out.
The point is, I'M BACK BITCHES.
In the words of Tay Tay:
"The haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I'm just gonna shake [write], shake [write], shake [write], shake [write], shake
I shake [write] it off, I shake [write] it off (ooh-ooh-ooh)
You are a deep, wise, courageous, badass, MOTHER! Keep it coming ( :
And I love it. Always loved your guts, your unfiltered thoughts, your tendency to reach for the stars and your willingness or need to share with all us. And hey, those who don’t want to hear you, can tune out. And yes, remembering you for the short time in my life, you have a lot of energy despite the tiredness that accompanies life in general. You go, woman, and share your words!