In January 2015 I began the technological challenge of building a blog. For a few years before that, friends and family had suggested that I take my communication to a wider audience.
Over many years, indeed since my teen years, people have suggested that I write my story and create stories out of my experiences … nearly five and a half decades thus far. Nevertheless, despite all the promptings, I have always been too preoccupied with ‘doing life’ to sit down and concentrate on one full-on assignment such as writing a book, as has been requested, not least because (in the midst of doing so) would come more waves, emotional and mental waves that I have not had the life space to weather yet. However, I always do my best to communicate and to share out of what I have learnt, for whatever reason, and out of this has been birthed my blog.
What most do not know, is that some years back I experienced such severe loss of hope, very unlike me, that in putting myself back together again I faced the realisation starkly: There is nothing in life more important than being real. I HAD to be real, in order to survive. I simply could not afford to use all my energy any longer to put on a bright, shiny face all the time, using every part of myself to cope under the weight of other people’s demands and (frankly, highly unfair) expectations. I am not a depressive, and yet I had sunk into a deep, deep pit and I just wanted to give up.
I am someone who has always loved life, who lives for love and laughter, loving people and parties, strong leadership and inspired by those who have overcome, who drinks from the fountain of life wherever I see it in Nature, or in the face of a child, or in the light and salty presence of a positive adult, never afraid to draw in close and offer to pray with or simply talk with any human being, with anyone who hurts. I care about animals, I care about orphans, I care about the air we breathe, the homeless person and the CEO. I have huge dreams and I have been invested with much by the life I have lived … and I am a Mother who has birthed two children, faced all sorts of challenges to do so, far away from places and people I had previously called ‘home’ …
Life made me adjustable, pliable, flexible, responsible, reliable, dependable … strong in so many ways … and I had been taught that “there is no such thing as can’t” … Yet, suddenly I crashed.
All the air inside the balloon left.
All the oxygen keeping my mental bubbles of hope afloat, ceased to have buoyancy and I gave up.
I remember sitting on the ground outside our house in Merewether (funny name that), NSW, with one of my children in my lap, tears of brokenness quietly running down my face. I just wanted to die. There seemed little point to anything any more. Nothing I did, nothing I said, nothing I was, nothing I gave seemed good enough. I was not good enough to be heard. I was not wealthy enough. I did not have material things to impress others with. I did not matter. Yes, I knew that I mattered to the human lives I had agonisingly birthed, but everything else about me was apparently not good enough.
The life I was doing my best to cope within was stifling my spirit and crushing my indomitable hope. I heard myself saying “I can’t”. That was 1999.
Fast forward eighteen years.
The technological challenges of building a website in order to write a blog, for a number of worthwhile reasons, continue. Two and a half years after embarking on the journey, there are now over 100 posts, and I’m still finding my way, slowly relearning confidence and presence, slowly gaining my life and technological strength in a number of areas, rapidly practising it in others.
I no longer have the life time to waste on pleasing people; I try not to beat around the bush; I hope to always ‘say it as it is’ in a humble and assured way … I am still learning, and shall always do so.
I found a way to go on and my writing is one way that I express myself. Living in the light and in the truth is how I am my best self.
Being real provides safe harbour for others to be the same, and there I find that I can meet every human being, no matter their position or purpose on this earth that I love so much.
And so, to answer the question that I’ve asked myself in the title of this post, that is part of the reason why I have a blog. Besides the fact that it seems to be fashionable to do so.