Hello again.
I don’t know how to start, other than to just say, “Hello. I’m blogging again.” I’m letting go of the insecurities and the voices that tell me I have nothing to say, nothing to offer, and nothing to contribute to make the world better. I don’t want to add to the noise, per se, because in spite of my experience, I’m not an expert mother, Navy wife, homeschooling mom, minimalist, etc. I’m not even an expert in my own story.
I have a bias, my version of events is naturally one-sided, and I don’t necessarily have the distance time brings when it comes to evaluating my past and making peace with it.
So why bother writing at all? Because I need to evaluate and to find that peace. Because writing is how I make sense of the world. And just because I’m not writing here doesn’t mean I’m not writing elsewhere. However, by writing here, I hope to open a conversation, which also opens me to criticism, sure, but I have a better chance at conversation in this space than I do in my journal.
I read the article “From the Stranger in Me to the Stranger in You,” by Emily Bernard yesterday. My friend Susan linked it on social media, and even though I question whether social media brings me value or just the illusion of value, exposure to a variety of voices keeps me there.
I strongly identified with these portions of Bernard’s article:
”…[I]n all stories about wounds, the telling is the suture” (para. 16).
“Often fear is pain guarded so closely that it takes on a power that is bigger than language. I believe that to tell the story is to choose liberty over pain” (para. 18).
“I write from the stranger in me to the stranger in you, from my discomfort to yours. I write because there are things I don’t know—even about myself—that I want to find out, and because I believe there are others out there in the same situation: People who feel confused and afraid and alone; people who are broken and want to get whole” (para. 19).
In all my years teaching writing – a job I dearly miss – I emphasized that writing is a path to self-discovery and a way to situate oneself in the world. When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I wrote scores of journal entries to make sense of it all. Many scholars have written about writing as therapy and how it can benefit, well… pretty much anyone (with the notable exception of people who have PTSD, as ruminating on a painful past can cause great harm), but especially people who struggle with identity, stress, mental illness, and other life-changing or even traumatic events.
As such, I’m going to write about the topics that are important to me: faith, creativity, mental illness, and minimalism in as much as it helps me deal with the previous three. I’ll write about trauma, too, not because I want to blame anyone, but just to process. I’m sure I’ll anger some people along the way, but see above about writing to become whole. I’ll try not to spill anyone’s tea but my own.
It is my greatest desire to bring God glory and use my life to help others feel less alone. I’m pretty good at encouraging people, and exposing myself might - just might - reduce some of the stigma and shame surrounding hard topics. (Are you familiar with the classic Sunday School song that says, “Hide [your life/faith] under a bushel? No! I’m gonna let it shine!”)
As always, I hope those reading find something relatable that can benefit them. All I have to offer is my story. I welcome you to join me. Again. But only if you want to. :)