Well, for the most part I stopped.
There were a few exceptions.
Like right after my daughter was born. I was so overcome with hormones and emotion that I felt as though I would explode if I didn't express myself. I felt like Simba's father in the opening scene of the Lion King, when he raises his cub up for the world to see. That was me, only my cliff was a blog that like five people read. Still, I was unable to contain myself, because I wanted to share my happiness with anyone and everyone who would look at it.
Paradoxically, when my grandma died I furiously typed out my sorrow in a couple of blog posts that reflected my broken heart, my soul and of my relationship with her. My vast emotions needed an outlet. My tears needed a place to be cemented.
Unless I was completely moved and damn near possessed to write, I didn't do it.
Just before I got pregnant I had a brief stint as a columnist for the Winnipeg Sun. It felt like my Carrie Bradshaw moment-- I was getting to test my chops at writing about relationships and whatever else in print for an audience. It was my dream come true.
I felt as though I had made it and I took this opportunity and myself pretty seriously. Too seriously, which isn't a good thing, because I lead this passage with my ego. I know I can be a good writer, especially when I write from the heart and the depths of my soul. I also know that in order to be a good writer, one must lay it out there, be vulnerable. Not give a fuck about the people who will hate you, because no matter how big your stage is, some people are going to hate you.
I wasn't ready for that part of it.
I wanted people to like me. I wanted to be that darling in the Sunday paper that was witty, and funny and had heaps of wisdom to share. I wanted people to read what I had to say and to enjoy reading my words as much as I enjoyed writing them.
Essentially, I wanted all the good things about this opportunity without any of the bad. And while there were people who did like me, they were accompanied by others who didn't.
There's nothing like accomplishing your dreams and putting yourself out there in a very public and vulnerable way to knock you down a few pegs.
It hurts, but sometimes (probably most of the time) it's necessary.
Like Carrie Bradshaw, I am insufferable and unlikeable sometimes. I've made a lot of mistakes and bad decisions in my life, some that have been at the expense of others. Reckoning with that part of myself is hard. Nobody likes to look at the toxic parts of themselves. But that confrontation is necessary if you want to change and grow to be better.
We can always change and we can always be better than we used to be.
In the years since, I've became more cautioned of sharing myself in my writing until I just stopped.
Life got busy, my priorities changed, and time was tenuous.
There's more at stake now too, as my life isn't just mine anymore. I share it with my partner and kids whom I respect deeply and I would never want to to embarass. Also, as I've said, my time is sparse. Anything that takes me away from my family has to be worth it.
For me, writing is worth it.
I've always loved writing. I've always enjoyed wandering through life, looking for the next story, whether it's mine or someone else's. I've missed that part a lot.
Aside from all that, I am older now. I'm also maybe a little wiser, and my ego, though still fragile at times, is a bit stronger. I also have a lot less fucks to give than I used to. Not everyone is going to like me. Not everyone is going to like what I have to say or the stories I have to tell, and that's cool.
Life is short, and I have a lot of stories I want to tell.
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