Six (!) years ago today I hit publish on my very first blog post. I barely remember what it was about–something money related, since this started as a personal finance blog–and I remember being nervous as fuck that my writing was now out there for other people to read but I have never once regretted starting it (Since, you know, I don’t believe in regrets). Blogging has taught me more about myself than I could have ever imagined. Not to mention the fact that I’ve met some incredible people, had some amazing experiences, and tried some things I never would have thought I’d try.
But 6 years is a long time.
I’m not even sure what I have left to say or do.
I mean, I know I have plenty. And I want and need to keep saying it. But the blogging world has changed SO MUCH since I started and honestly, I don’t know if I can keep up. Because I don’t give a shit about stats or followers or creating Pinnable images or shareable content or or witty listicles or creating a product or getting sponsors or advertising or whatever it is people are doing now and I suck at catchy titles and SEO and even responding to comments. I JUST WANT TO WRITE. I want to make readers laugh or think or realize they’re not alone or help or some combination of those. Maybe even do things I haven’t thought of yet.
But all that is hard to do when you feel like you’ve become irrelevant.
Okay, maybe irrelevant is the wrong word. Maybe private is a better one? I don’t know. I feel, lately, that what I have going on in my life isn’t anything people want to read about or I’m not comfortable sharing. Like, for the last 7 months, I’ve been working out and losing weight and I’m down just about 25 pounds. But I’m no weight loss guru, my workouts are whatever classes I take, and I cook the most boring foods around. Hard to turn that into anything worth sharing. And it’s not that I feel people wouldn’t be encouraging or supportive; in fact, I know it’s the opposite. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that anyone genuinely cares or that it would make a difference to someone else.
See also: everything else in my life. Hence the quiet and inconsistencies.
Perhaps this is the lingering effects of depression talking. It is, after all, a lying bastard I’ve been trying to shut up for the past few months. And I know that once the fog has lifted I’ll be back to whatever normal actually is.
I appreciate all of your patience with me as I work through all of the shit cluttering my head. I know it’s been fairly morose around here when I have managed to string together a few sentences in a row. But I’m trying and while I can’t promise another 6 years, I do know that this isn’t the end.
Yet.
