Hundreds of Blogs begin, end or are left in obscurity everyday. Writers too, also come and go. I have been blogging for a decade on WordPress with almost eight years on this site. This blog has helped me arrange my thoughts when ill, kept me company, set writing targets and deadlines, honed editing and IT skills and stored a wealth of random information in one place.
Despite my efforts, my little blog has always remained small with only a handful of followers, but, for something so small, writing this blog has been my one constant joy. These writings are my personal thoughts, my cathartic release; my feelings on being female. Through some of my loneliest days, WordPress was all I had, was the only way I communicated and the only way I was ever heard. My WordPress blogging family were clicks away, there to boost writing morale and happily offer support.
Unable to write I watched lots of YouTube and continued with my therapy. Helen became a great constant with my love and trust of her allowing me to really address some deeply buried issues. For years I have struggle to accept what happened to me twenty two years ago or address it’s impact on my health. I repeated painful cycles and wondered when it would end; last month it finally did. Completely incapacitated, writhing around in terrible pain, I contemplated ending my life, but with help I somehow got through. I reached out to my family, my therapist and my friends. I accepted that I held a phenomena within me that was less mystery and more simply a result of years of pain and anguish.
I have written so many times that we must write our pain out and a few years back I changed my tag line to ‘writing my way through infertility and grief’. Now, after all these years, I can see the light at the other end. After all these years I am making my way through.
Recently I have been blogging less and less. It began last year as we globally united to address a pandemic. Locked down with nowhere to go or new experiences to have, creativity ceased within me. There were changes made to the tech and I could no longer find my friends, nor they I. The platform changed. Gone was my lively global interaction and everything local became dull and mundane.
I realised there has been something missing from my life for many years. I have attempted to express what I thought it was but never really understood it until now. Bound up with my pain and grief was loneliness. Writing has been my best friend all my life but as I’ve aged it has been less successful at filling the void.
2021 began with massive changes. A man fell in love with me and I went to live with him and his two children. I was promoted; revered at both work and home, and living a full and blessed life. Joyous in it’s newness a chapter began, but then the familiar physical pain of my cystic uterus dragged my mood and well-being down.
I took to blogging about my experience but something was not right. I no longer wished to lament upon my ailment. I was happy, finally happy, but my happiness would not make it go away. I needed my life to move further forward, past waiting for the doctors to make their opinions on my body.
With all the love and support in my life I decided to reassess. Who did I want to be, what holds me back and how fast can I make the changes?
I looked everywhere in my life. I looked at my habits, my excuses and in writing . From all my work, this blog in particular voices my struggle to accept who I really am.
This month I decided to blog less and sit in mindful quiet contemplation. There are so many amazing things happening to me at the moment that I can no longer focus on the one element that brings me down. My grief remains and I will always be infertile but it is time to let it go. I set myself a writing challenge. I will finish my memoir, have it bound and give it to myself as a present for my birthday.
Wishing you love, light & inspiration x