There is a question that seems to be reverberating in the blogging world right now. At a session at BlogHer, Mel asked: “Who wears the pants on your blog: you, your readers or your topic?”
I have been ruminating on this, because honestly? My blog is all over the place, right? It’s OK to say yes. It’s a little of this, a little of that.
After two years of pondering life after infertility and loss, after years of questions, I’ve finally come to a sort of peace. And an idea of what I want this blog to be.
It all began in Tahoe. I read Stephanie Nielson’s book “Heaven Is Here” during my stay. I am a Nie Nie Dialogues fan from way back, but the book told her compelling story in a single narrative. In a blurb: Stephanie Nielson was a mother of four living a beautiful life until the moment she got into a plane crash and was burned over 80% on her body. In a very moving and honest way, she describes how she found her way back to her beautiful life. It was deeply moving to me.
I haven’t been living my life lately as if I were a lucky person. I have been fearful and terrified and sad. It’s understandable, after so much loss.
I am lucky to be here, to be inhabiting my life. I have the life of a truly blessed person: one who has so much. I’ve been blinded by grief, but as if my sight was restored, suddenly I see my husband in front of me: someone who’s strong and makes so much of my life possible. Fourteen years have passed since the day I met and instantly fell in love with him, waiting in line for a concert. He dazzled me with his wit and sophistication and challenged me. He’s still doing so today.
And My God, my children. They’ve been in front of me, all this time, shining.
My dreams of more, more, more. I don’t blame myself for wanting more: it’s a biological imperative to have many children, it’s an urge deep in my soul. But I am not going to let it rule my life anymore. I can’t.
I’ll always look wistfully at big families, but I’m letting go of that dream. Letting it go into the sky like a sole, lonely balloon as I did when I was a child. I’d beg my mother for a balloon and then inevitably let it go. As soon as it was unreachable, I would sob and cry: “Bye, bye balloon!”
“Bye bye balloon!” I’ll miss you, but I must let you go.
Please know this is only MY decision and I’m not applying it to anyone else.
Faces of ALI is my very small way of giving back to the community that has given me so much. I will continue to write my profiles. Publishers and famous authors by damned.
But here, now, I must start something new. I understand if you do not want to follow me anymore, I do. Dear readers, I owe you this peace I now feel. I don’t want to desert you. I understand how you feel and my heart will always be with you, it will. I will continue to read your stories and comment on your journeys.
But in my own place, I must in turn follow the beat of the drummer I am starting to hear. I feel the excitement, the joy, the adventure, the heartbreak. It’s waiting for me, just around the bend. I hope you understand. I must chase it, because we only truly exist once, here.