Blogging Intentions

berriesWhen my first child was born, I started a blog. In the beginning, I loved it. It was refreshing to do something that I enjoyed each day, but after a while, it became a job that I stopped looking forward to. I felt obligated to post daily, and eventually, combined with the lack- of- sleep new mommyhood brings, I began to resent the daily grind. I started writing for the audience I was collecting rather than collecting the audience I was writing for, and that’s when I realized it was no longer authentically me. I also, after plenty of soul-searching, realized that I wasn’t comfortable with exposing my children’s faces to the world, after all, that belongs to their stories, not mine, and so, after a steady six months, I packed it in. beach
Fast forward to a few years later, and I haven’t kicked the call to write, but I do have one more sweet baby and a lot less time. I’ve decided, this time around, that blogging should be something that I enjoy, always. It won’t take away from the energy I put into my family, since that is my main priority, and instead, it should fuel me, since it’s my space for creativity. paintingI will keep the content close to my heart, always just being myself, I’ll never share more than my family is comfortable with me sharing, and lastly, I want to create a work of beauty. I hope to house a sunny space where folks, such as yourself, can come for some rays of inspiration. spring
I think, I’ve moved past the point of spending time thinking about how strange I look as the no stroller, whole foods, non-cellphone mama. Learning to love myself whether others do or not has given me a new outlook on life and on other people. It has also allowed me to appreciate the things that may not always be ideal. It hasn’t been a pocket full of jelly beans learning to accept my introvertism (which Webster created as a word .5 seconds ago), but lately, I’ve come to appreciate this woman whom I’ve seemingly forced to be different for quite some time. I like her. I’ve missed her, but sometimes, sometimes she’s a pain in my ass. I’d like her to not worry too much about writing the wrong thing. About accidentally hurting anyone’s feelings. So I’ll begin cautiously, testing my waters, knowing that there is a possibility of feeling hurt, no matter how small, it still scares me. Something else to learn about. Another way to grow.trees

About hay mama

an artiste (pronounced with an ‘eeste’) tackling a multitude of works, mother raising three kiddos, lover of books, seeker of knowledge, consumer of great coffee, follower of nature, lover and friend to my one and only…

Leave a Reply