I’ve been trying to come up with content here, lately. I’ve even panicked, thinking that, for the first time in six years, I’ve failed to write a post for an entire week, and my weekly email wouldn’t go out.
I do not want to be the kind of blogger who looks around thinking, “This might make an okay topic,” or “Could I possibly make this feeling be funny instead of pitiful?” That’s really putting the cart before the horse for my blog. I began it intending to keep others updated on where I was, not to create some kind of “Dear Diary, I did this, and then I did that” missive. Some people are good at that kind of writing, but I am not, and I don’t want to try to be.
Which leads me to the book. It’s true that I might want to continue to condense my past writing about certain places into one long, retrospective post so I might have one chapter per location, even the most complex ones. In those situations, I might continue to post that content here, as I have been doing with the Grateful and Proud series. And, if Finn and I continue the podcast, I will announce those episodes here, as well.
When I was on the road and lonely, this blog helped me feel connected to other people. I could share what I was seeing, just like I would have if my mom were still alive. Now, I’m still lonely, but I don’t have the excuse or distraction of travel.
Frankly, I’m tired of trying to make this blog into something other than what I intended it to be. I’m tired of trying to make my health problems sound interesting. When I go down that road (no pun intended), I hate that I made us leave the road. I regret having chosen such a cold place to live, and I regret encouraging Tracy to buy a house he now hates. I miss living in the Airstream, and I miss adventuring. I wonder what it would be like to live on the road now that I’m not struggling with a “toxic” nodule on my thyroid that was making me anxious. Or, now that I’m sleeping. What it would have been like if I’d chosen a town to live in where I have close friends.
I’m tired of intimating that my personal problems are somehow as big a deal as the state of the world right now.
I need to give myself time to develop, without a public face. Which is ironic, seeing as how I need to write, and I feel that what I should be spending my writing energies on—maybe—is that manuscript draft.
Don’t worry about me! Spring is finally here in Madison, and Tracy and I are moving ahead with the house renovation. I’ve secured a parking spot for our kayaks right next to the river here and one of the lakes. We have full-timing friends visiting this summer, and Finn is coming before that to get some of his own writing done here. I surely will make friends, and I surely will find my footing once indoor season rolls around again. And most likely, you’ll see me here sooner than that.
Take care until then.
Love,
Shelly
