I know, I know. I’ve turned into one of those people. I started this new blog, did a few posts and then disappeared for a few months seemingly to have given up on my attempt for a cool hobby or something of that nature. And I know, I even wrote a post a while back that gave people like that a hard time stating we should embrace our hard times and air it out instead of going MIA.
The truth is I got pretty discouraged. I was really putting some effort into my writing and it seemed like no one was reading it except for my mom. I love my mom, but I don’t spend hours of my day brainstorming, researching, writing and editing just for my mom to be my only audience. So I kind of gave up. I figured what’s the point? No one comments. If anyone does read it I don’t know about it and I just felt overlooked. (Sniffle, sniffle. Tissue, please)
Around that same time I did get pretty busy and I ran out of time and energy for writing. I starting looking after a girl about Delores’ age four to five days a week and all three of the girls have been keeping me hopping. Plus the holidays and yada, yada, yada.
The busyness and the stress has really gotten to me and I find myself saying “self, you have got to do something, soon, or you are going to loose it!”
But last night something dawned on me. I need this outlet. This time to myself to reflect on what I believe, how I feel and who I am. And dang it I love to write. Out of all my artistic hobbies this is the only one I can whip out of my pocket and divulge in at any given time of the day.
So screw it if no one reads my stuff. I may not be good at it, I may not write anything worth being published or even worth reading, but it feeds my soul and that is all the reason I need to get off my pity pot and keep doing what I love.