Today, I have been blogging for 10 years.
When I started blogging, nobody had a blog, and it was this relatively novel thing. Now, everybody blogs, and sometimes I wonder if it’s better to leave a lot more unsaid.
(I was going to post a picture of me from this era, but the only one I could find from October 2004 is one from a Spice Girls sleepover we hosted in our old house in Burlieth, and I’m not sure I want pictures of myself dressed as Baby Spice floating around on the internet.)
My writing has been sparse this year, for a variety of good reasons: handling a busier than expected work schedule; coping with the bone rattling stuff that comes with cancer even when you walk away mostly unscathed; recovering from a hip reconstruction that has taken up most of my time and energy and kept me from participating in the activities that generally define my day-to-day; managing the exhaustion of travelling internationally everysinglemonth this year. In the past, with all that stuff going on, I’ve wanted to open up to the world and talk about it. But lately, with all that has been thrown at me this year, I’ve had to pull inwards and reflect before I can talk about it.
And to be honest, I don’t know sometimes if I can get enough reflecting done to discuss before some other Thing comes up.
None of this stuff is … bad, per se. Except for some of the health stuff, and even that has turned out largely okay. It’s all just the kind of stuff that shakes you up, and then keeps going, so there’s not really a moment to process it before the next wave hits.
Sometimes, I think about how much changes in 10 years. Sometimes, I think about how much stays the same. Sometimes, I wonder: Am I doing this right? Did I make the right decisions here? Am I acceptably angry; am I letting the right stuff go; am I appropriately happy; et cetera, et cetera?
Everything. And then again, not a whole lot. Geography, maybe. Relationships.
What stays the same?
I started blogging because I was an injured runner recovering from surgery…
…plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.
What comes next?
That, I don’t really know. I am trying to focus more. I am trying to engage in at least a modicum of self-care. I am trying to remember to take out the trash, and send the laundry out on a reasonable schedule, and remember to order groceries and consume them before the cheese in the fridge sprouts a set of teeth and starts talking to me. I am trying to remember a time when doing normal stuff didn’t feel like a luxury.
Ten years ago, I thought I had Stuff Figured Out. Which was probably a function of inexperience, or fear, or youth, or a combination of all of the above.
I am comfortable now to admit that I know very little, except that this has been a wild ride.