Motherhood makes me introspective. It has brought with it so many weighty emotions, desires, and responsibilities. I often find myself sitting on the sofa, or standing at the sink, or driving in the car, totally lost in thought over some question, some issue that has been raised in my mind. Things that I took for granted before, ideas that I never gave a second thought to, emotions that I ignored- now it seems of the utmost importance to own them, to understand them, to know them.
Until now, I've never really been an 'unexamined life is not worth living' kind of gal, but I think I might be turning into one. I've found myself very drawn to my journal- the need to write down these thoughts, arguments, obsessions, musings. The catharsis of getting them out of the floaty-around space in my head and onto a sheet of paper.
Me- a journaler! And after all these years of desperately wanting to be the kind of person who wrote regularly, buying pretty blank book after blank book, making new years resolution after resolution. Here I am, craving a few minutes of time alone so I can grab my journal and write. Go figure.
So, here's the deal. My journal can't take it anymore. It's vibrating, positively pulsing, too full of questions, confessions, emotions that I dump into it. Poor little notebook. It needs a break. I'm going to give it a break. I'm going to start posting some of these things instead.
And, it might get weird. I know how uncomfortable these things can be. Too personal. Too probing. Too much. You know.
And I don't really know anything about how blog etiquette works, but listen: you don't have to read them. You don't have to comment on them. You don't have to talk to me about them. You don't even have to come here anymore! Or, if you do keep coming, because you love the pictures of Henry and my fabulous wit, you can just skip over the weird stuff. No pressure.
Phew. Glad I got that out. Here ends the post in which I justify future posts that you might think are weird. Happy Tuesday!