hiding myself, and other concerns

Reading what I write makes me sick.

The only real reason this blog keeps sputtering along is that I’ve determined to feed the brave part of me. What I want to do now is curl up with the dog, with no words, and forget that I ever gave myself.

I write and rewrite and I edit till I think maybe the me behind the word craft is quite nearly etched of the picture. Did you like those nice words? Do you know me any better? No? Good.

Since starting the blog, I’ve read and received good blog advice – like, infographics on how to attract traffic, and when to post, and merely sixty highly involved tasks to keep your blog from failing, whatever the goodness that means. Pick a topic; post at the same time; pick a name that people actually can pronounce. It’s not so much that I’ve determined to do my own thing (cue Frank) – it’s that I fail at doing what I’m supposed to do, always, so here I am, launched into introspection way past my bedtime.

The birth of this blog came about because

  1. I wanted to investigate how to live a good life on a Ramen noodle budget;
  2. To prove that we’re insane, we bought a falling apart house, and, for my next act, I want to show you how we plan to put it back together;
  3. I intended to nurse the brave part of me, and remember to allow myself to do what I love . . .
  4. And in a moment of insanity, I thought someone else might like to skim over it and see what the heck this crazy fly by the seat of her sweatpants chick is thinking.

Over the holidays, a cousin described this place as “a life blog.” I owe this scary status as a life-in-general blog to a hurricane that took out our power and made it almost impossible to work in our house. We’re going on three months sans power and two weeks past the date when we were absolutely supposed to have our power reconnected.

Lest I sit here twiddling for months, I decided to fill in the house progress gaps with the stuff I was thinking. [Cueing the why do they always go to the basement music.]

Thus began the internal war between brave Emily and relatively more likeable Emily.

Oh, no power. Looks like you’ll have to shut up for months.
Maybe not. Maybe I’ll say what I think.
Don’t you dare.
Accidental feminism?
Puppies!
Social stigmas concerning depression!
Floor plans! ESPRESSO.

Today I talked to my friend on the phone. That is my idea of sharing. I’ve realized that most of what I talk about is how I’m messing up at life, or who threw up on me, and how I’m being selfish and clueless and trying to find the words to make it all less tragic than it seems. And today I read an article (kudos to Hännah for hunting these things down) about how journalism is spiraling into narcissism and memoirs. I don’t want to be writing about me, but you said it helped you.

I’m taking a short step back to look at this whole project. I don’t really like it, but I’ve never liked anything I’ve done.

Every day I tell toddlers to use their words, and therapists and teachers exist, in part, because it’s important to use our words. This is me, using my words, instead of stealing your toy and biting you in the knee.

And so concludes the story of why I’m sharing secrets while we wait on electricity.

Here is a horse.

blue ridge horse

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5 thoughts on “hiding myself, and other concerns

  1. I’m going to “have kittens on the spot” and throw a fit if you stop writing. You’re not a selfish narcisisst, honey. Go read xoJane. That’s the stuff of selfish narcissists. You have good words and you stew on them and write them well. I haven’t read a single post here that I thought was mediocre. They’ve all made me think and stilled my heart and taken me back to being reoriented to the slower road of little steps and flickering flames of faith and loving in the day to day.

  2. Okay, seriously — this is becoming one of my favorite reasons to log in to facebook. so, don’t stop, okay? emily, you have the ingredients for a book here that the rest of us so-called “writers” would be quite jealous about (he says, ending the sentence with a preposition ’cause he doesn’t really care). channel this stuff into chapters and you’ve got a winner.

  3. Emily! I am so glad I was able to re-meet/connect with you at Courtney’s wedding because it means I have been able to (through your facebook) enjoy your soul-nourishing blog! Life isn’t always easy (mine currently isn’t) and your honestly on that fact allows me to breath a sigh of relief! You accomplished “being brave” from your first blog post and accomplish it every time you write. I know it isn’t easy, but you are persistently brave and true which is refreshing in the blogosphere. I’m a bit of a writer too and still too scared to start a blog,..ha! I hope at the least you are able to slowly hear and believe the many compliments you have received.It’s hard to take those kind of things on for fear of failure, but believing in them can bring on a realm of good.

    You are a great writer, please don’t stop…for our (the reader’s) sake! 😉

    Let me know if I can contribute to the smoothie fund! 😉

  4. Pingback: sense: how to deal with not making it « la corbeille

  5. Thank you, Emily. Just happened upon your blog, linked from Crosswalk.com. I loved #3- “I intended to nurse the brave part of me, and remember to allow myself to do what I love . . .” it was a good reminder of what I need to do. … and before I chicken out, delete this comment and just go away …

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