I didn't mean to be a blogger. I really didn't. A long, long time ago the first post on my blog was about how I was never going to be a real blogger. I was just getting a Blogger (was it Blogspot at the time?) blog so I could easily comment on my friends' blogs. Nothing to see here. Move along, reader. Move along.
And then that changed because I changed. I was making Big Life Decisions and I needed a place to word vomit them out before we even knew what the phrase "word vomit" meant. So I blogged. Sometimes I even blogged a lot.
Then I started another blog about books. I spent most of my time there. Then I started writing for BlogHer and spent a lot of time there. I changed blogging platforms and hosts the way some people change their seasonal wardrobe.
And then a few years ago I just sort of stopped writing everywhere. Part of me was just tired of it all. Part of me wondered if I really had anything of value to share. Imposter syndrome is real.
My personal blog has often been neglected, so that wasn't really new. I've always struggled with the personal/private lines in some regards. It was a bit easier when I was pseudonymous but that ship sailed a long time ago. I'm much easier to find in a Google search and that changed things. It made me more aware of what I was putting out into the internet. I deleted a few posts here and there in my archives. Mostly though, I got really quiet.
I've never been a post every day writer. Heck, I've never been a write every day writer. I've tried at various times but I find I just post subpar content that I'm not happy with.
Last yea, after a much needed solo vacation to get my head on straight, I felt re-energized about blogging. Yeah, it was a bit scary but I had taught myself again that I can do scary things.
I had a plan. I could DO this. I know how. I had a good little routine down. I was blogging weekly, or almost weekly. It felt good.
And then this past autumn it all came to a screeching halt.
I didn't feel well. I was tired. So very tired. I stopped doing everything that wasn't absolutely necessarily, including writing. I worked. I ate. I slept. I sat on the couch and watched a lot of television because that was all I could handle. I retreated from world online because it was more than I could handle.
I'm mostly feeling better now. Or, at least, I'm on the path to feeling better. I find myself pondering what kind of blogger I want to be.
At minimum, it would be nice to be the kind that actually blogs. That would be helpful. But this is the thing about retreating from online life - it's hard to get back. It's hard to let down the privacy barriers that you put up. On any given day I'm riding the fence between wanting to write all the things and shutting it all down.
The internet is different than it was 12 years ago, yes, but I'm different than I was 12 years ago. I'm different than I was two years ago.
Constant reinvention is part of life. Who do I want to be next?