Wow! This is the 200th post I’ve published on here. Over the past 2 ½ years I have had almost 21,000 page views. Unbelievable! I somehow feel as though this post should be something spectacular, something very meaningful. I had fantasies about writing a short story so you guys (I use this term in a unisex kind of way…) could read some of my fiction.
All I can come up with tonight is the question of ‘What the hell am I doing here???’ I love writing, I love my blog, but really, why am I doing this? Writing these posts has exposed so much of myself, leaving me vulnerable. I get criticized frequently. I get misunderstood even more often. And every single time I try to explain myself, to justify what I’ve written. I’ve even alienated people, who have either become annoyed by my posts or angry with me.
Tonight, I’m not sure why I do it. I feel drained by it. I feel as though a lot of people think I’m a joke. Because who writes a blog? Only losers, right? You don’t even get paid!
I used to tell myself that if at least one person’s life is touched by a post I have written that it has been worth doing. I have received a few notes of thanks by people who felt encouraged by my posts. But overall, is it really truly worth it?
The thing is, I’m no expert on any of the subjects I write about (except my life- I’m quite the expert on that…) I have read a lot about parenting and I do it daily, but so do most other parents. People have called me arrogant, full of myself, saying that I think I’ve got it all figured out.
You’re wrong, people! I know nothing. Every day I get up and hope that I can find the energy within me somewhere to do this whole parenting thing over again. One more day, until bed time. And the entire day I’m winging it because my children challenge me all the way. My brain goes into overload thinking about what I ‘know’ in theory vs. what I am actually doing.
Then some days, I have moments of clarity and I feel as though I’ve figured one little minute detail out. And I feel like sharing it with everyone! I tell my husband and he kinda sorta cares, but not really. So I blog about it and hope that my snippets of crazy thoughts make sense to someone and help them make sense of their own craziness.
But when I am by myself, like I am now, it all seems pointless and wasted. I should be cleaning or studying or doing something to make myself look pretty or… Instead, I’m fighting windmills.
In the grand scheme of things, I know nothing. I know what ‘the truth’ is for myself and possibly my close family and that’s as far as it goes. I used to think that I knew a lot, but now I know that I’m just like one of the people who knew that the world was flat.
So forgive me, but I have no answer to the question of what I am doing here. Truth be told, I hardly have any answers at all.