Sorry y’all, but I think I might have ghosted.
Ghosted – you know, where you leave a party without telling anyone you’re leaving? You just leave.
Yeah, I think I did that.
It’s been almost four months with nary a post on this blog and it’s starting to be something I don’t even have on my “really should do that” list. It’s starting to feel like it never even existed. The guilt of not blogging is starting to lift.
Yesterday I received what may be the nicest message from an almost-stranger that I’ve ever received. It was about this blog and it said all kinds of lovely things about me that I’m 98% sure are mostly not true…but it lifted my spirits so. And it made me smile to think that anything I’ve ever written might have ever made someone feel like that. Because even if 2% of it IS true, that would be enough.
Oh how I have loved this blog. It got my mothering self through babyhood and toddlerhood and saw me off into the harried pace of childhood with a gentle shove and a smile…the kind I give me kids each day when they head off to school. Goodbye! Have a great day! See you when you get back!
But then I didn’t come back.
The writing I did on this blog over the years – and the responses I received in return – saw me through such a transitional, formational time in my life. And it didn’t dawn on me until yesterday that perhaps I wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of that benefit. If it might have done a bit of that for you, I can’t tell you how that pleases me.
This is a new time in my life. My kids are in school full time and they spend the small time that they’re with me hollering “don’t talk about me!” should I ever tell a story about them in their presence. It’s okay. I remember doing the same to my own mother. If only I had known at the time that she wasn’t sharing sweet stories on my behalf to find humor in me – but rather, to revel in me. To share with the world the precious joy that my sister and I were to her. All the sweet, silly, ridiculous, maddening parts of us. I know this now because I feel it toward my own sprouting children. And as much as I want to share every delightful bit of them with the world, they sure wouldn’t appreciate it.
Sure, I can share a story here and there, but I think the days of Sarah and Ephraim being the meat and potatoes of blog fodder have a little bit sailed.
And here’s another thing: I have real friends now. Okay, that sounds super dumb, I know. But the fact is that for so many years this blog was my connection to the world. I was home with babies who napped. I was starting a business in my kitchen. I was changing and washing and changing and washing what felt like 50 diapers a day. There wasn’t a whole lot of face-to-face interaction happening in my daily life.
And now, well, there is.
We’ve been in Huntsville for going on 8 years and I LOVE THIS PLACE. I have settled into the rhythm of the progressive South (yep, it’s a real thing) like I was born to be here. These are my people, as much as I never thought I’d say that. My real, live friends hear my real, lame stories everyday. And then I feel kind of dumb sharing them again here. My need for over-sharing is often met by the end of a five mile run at 6:30 a.m. And then again at lunch with a friend. Or on the phone with my long-distance besties. And sometimes even with my husband (imagine that!). And then it seems the time for telling has past.
But here’s the thing: I miss writing. I don’t write anymore. I answer emails, I text (voice-t0-text, more accurately, with a few emojis thrown in for good measure), I occasionally stick a note in my kiddos’ lunch boxes. But that’s it. So maybe the time has come for this blog to fill a new need for me. No longer a need to connect for sanity’s sake, but rather, just a need to sort and process and get some thoughts out of my head.
So if anyone has stuck around to read what may come, great. But if you’ve all ghosted too, I can’t say I blame you. Sometimes, ghosting is good for the soul.