I read an article yesterday saying that the era of blogging was over.  It was advertising a new group-think platform, using social media for collective ideation.  But collective ideation is not why anyone blogs, why anyone writes, why anyone posts on Facebook.  We share who we are, we expose ourselves in words and art and music because we long to have a voice.

There are days where I feel like nothing I do makes a difference, and on those days, it feels empowering to send my thoughts out to anonymous readers.  (Hello, there.) It gives me a voice.  But in this era of blogging mega-superstars and having to market your own blog, it feels less satisfying and more self-promoting.  It grates against the friend-to-friend feel I loved when blogging circa 2008.

Back when I blogged solely about our adoption journey, I gathered a large-ish troop of friends, as we all experienced collectively each other’s family formation.  It was about the power of a story.  The story of a family’s formation.

And now?  Now when our new story is just beginning?  I find myself floundering and tongue-tied.  You see, I’ve lost the writing style that I had many years ago, and I mourn that loss.  I used to be cavalier, overly opinionated, creative, and funny.  Now my life has been filled with daily reminders of pain and loss (some especially beautiful reminders, which I’m grateful for), and the friends that I’ve gathered have all begun experiencing the aches and pains of whatever this early middle life stage we’re in is called.  Parents and friends dying.  Children with cancer.  Loved ones with severe mental illness or addictions.  Suicide.

And it’s hard to find the funny, jovial self I used to be.  It’s hard to form opinions when I know that at the end of my judgemental finger is a face of someone that I could really grow to like.

So I’ve lost my writing “voice” in a time in my life where it feels important to have a voice.  

My husband is my biggest supporter, and he’s encouraged me to continue writing, even though I feel a bit like I’m drifting.  So, I guess we’re in this together, lovely reader friend.  It’s a bit like going on a roadtrip without a clear sense of where you’ll end up.  This could be an adventure.  You and I could both discover and explore new places and things together.  And that’s mildly terrifying but mostly exciting.

I’ll never turn down a good adventure.  Will you?


One Comment

  1. Pingback: Nakedness: Hopefully, It's Just a Phase | Those Kinds of People

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.