You can’t just give someone a kiss goodbye and leave for work and walk back in the door five weeks later and expect there to be dinner on the table. “Where the fuck have you been” is a lot more likely than “Make yourself a drink while I pull the roast out of the oven, dear.”
So, pretend I just strolled in the door. You toss me a dirty look that means “where the fuck have you been” and I just stare blankly. The truth is I wasn’t at work. “So, where have you been?”
And the answer unfolds like a teenage explanation for being out past curfew. I went to the pool a bunch of times and I joined Costco and everyone knows that Costco takes forever because you have to eat all of the samples and I have had a few super fun triathlons and actually did I mention that I ran my fastest mile ever and Emily did a kid triathlon but it rained before she could run and speaking of the kids Lucy is getting so big it is crazy, really big, I mean we took the kids to an amusement park and she went on a water slide by herself. Oh, right. Where have I been? I don’t know. Just hanging around, doing whatever.
This evening we had dinner with friends and they mentioned the blog and I felt myself flush. “Well, yeah. I mean, I have a blog…” and I felt the rest of the sentence forming in my mouth like bile. But I haven’t written a damn thing in months. I showed you some pictures. I prattled on a bit about triathlons and birthdays and anniversaries. But I haven’t said anything worth a damn in a long, long time.
It’s scaring me. Do you lose your voice? Your courage? Do you just shut your laptop one day and then when you open it back up it doesn’t fit like a pair of jeans that used to be your favorite and then all of a sudden they feel like they belong to someone else? Something is changing.
The kids are changing. I have not wanted to spend time in front of the computer while Em is home from school. I painted the kitchen and we finished a pretty big kitchen project. But those are all excuses. A bunch of excuses that add up to “I don’t know what to write about right now.”
For a long time the things that mattered to me were Great Big Things. I was falling in love, I was finalizing my divorce, I was afraid to try and have a baby, I was pregnant, I had a newborn, I was learning to be a wife and a mother to two children. This is Big Stuff, big, dramatic, relatable, meaningful Stuff that I needed to say out loud so I could understand it.
Somehow the blog posts about Tempo Runs vs High Intensity Interval Training or Painting the Inside of My New Kitchen Cabinets Sucked Ass but I am Glad I Did It just don’t bubble up inside me and demand that I make the time to get them out.
Don’t be fooled. I have passion for scribbling triathlon training schedules on notecards and I have graphs showing the number of miles I have run this year (graphs, people!) I have tremendous zeal for Purdy paint brushes and I could talk about them all day. But I don’t need to write it down. I just don’t.
Funny things still happen. I bought MQD a pack of underwear a few weeks ago and I thought Emily was going to die in the store. I tried so hard to just be cool, casually strolling up and down the aisle, avoiding eye contact with her. As we left the final endcap and all of their male pelvic area glory she quietly says “That was very weird. I am never going near men’s underwear again.” When I turned to look at her and contemplated making a joke she went on to say “It’s just weird seeing men I don’t even know standing there in their underpants looking clueless.” The post almost writes itself. That is some comedy gold right there, but it is her story. It’s not mine.
Poignant things happen. A kid pushed Lucy on the playground the other day and I had to pretend that I had something in my eye when Emily whipped around and scooped her up and said “We don’t push our friends” loudly. I have never in my lifetime seen Emily’s tiny self so filled with rage. I could write about that.
Potty Training. That happened this summer. I was afraid to say anything about it for fear that publicly announcing our success would result in a cosmic shitstorm.
I take zillions of sweaty selfies as I am beaming, grinning ear to ear. I have run my ass off this summer. I am proud of myself. I am cobbling together a game plan to take on a Half Iron Man before my 40th birthday. I sit down to write a race recap and think “Nah, I am not a “fitness blogger.” And then another voice says “Right, you have no niche at all you just do what you do and you write it all down, you just write shit down, so write it.”
But then I make another trip to Costco and we go to the pool and I have wine for dinner so I can’t exactly write after the kids go to bed and then we have company again and then…
Long ago I decided it would be therapeutic to write but I didn’t want to pigeon hole my subject matter. I decided to tackle “This Book Will Change Your Life.” I petered out after Day 93: Practice Cosmic Humility. Writing had become a habit and I no longer needed the book to help me practice hysterical living.
But I need a kick in the ass. I am losing a part of myself. I am filling up my days with tasks and letting those tasks define me. I am a mother, a triathlete, a volunteer, a part-time employee. But I am losing my grip on Kelly, the girl who needed no additional instruction when it came to hysterical living.
I am calling this Day 94: Avoid Electromagnetic Energy. I have avoided my laptop for much of this summer.
It’s time to get back in the saddle. I am rusty. And unsure of where I am headed. But I promise that I will embarrass myself again soon. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Excitement on the side 
Kelly, it’s called “life” and it comes at you in so many ways; sometimes we note them and sometimes we’d rather not. It’s easy to be busy. It’s hard to be still …and …listen…outside oneself and inside oneself.
YOu said that right. :)
I have had very similar conversations with myself in my head. But here’s the thing I have to tell myself…if I don’t feel the urge or passion to write something for the world to see, I don’t have to write. Because ultimately, I do this for me. I don’t owe anyone a blog post. And you are doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing. Living. When the tasks and errands start to take over and you need that release that writing provides, it will be there for you. When the tasks and errands are more important, writing will wait patiently for you. But I know…easier said than done. I feel a twinge of guilt every time I see regular blog posts from others. But if I don’t have anything to say, I don’t have anything to say. I have promised myself I would never publish anything I wouldn’t read myself if someone else had written it. The downside is that when you don’t stay regular, you lose people. But the ones you keep are the ones who really appreciate what you have to say.
And Emily is right. Men’s underwear models are weird. I think it would be less awkward if they actually showed them sitting in their underwear drinking beer and watching football…or scratching themselves. At least it would seem more natural.
I haven’t blogged in more than forever. I write my lists of gratitude and I post them, but I already see I am at least one month behind in even posting! Your voice is so consistent — no matter what you do or how long you’ve been gone. YOU shine through your words. And a half IRON sounds amazing!! (I do wish there were more hours in the day).
I can relate – I haven’t blogged in a LONG time & have had a hard time getting back into it. And I totally get not wanting to be pinned down to a certain “niche” or not being sure what to write if it’s not something BIG. Your post is further inspiration for me, so thank you – I’m promising myself to get another post out soon…
I love your voice and I miss it even in the midst of being happy that your life is so full. You are living the s*#t out of each day and when ever you get around to writing about it all I’ll be here with glasses on and wine in hand. xoxo
Glasses on and wine in hand sounds lovely. xo
I’m right there with ya. So much has happened this year and I don’t even know where to begin writing about it. I wrote about the huge, life-changing stuff but the other stuff?? The awesome and the mundane?? I just don’t have the words.
But it is the awesome and the mundane that fuels me, those are the things that I am afraid of forgetting… sigh. #bloggerproblems
While I have certainly missed your posts, I can definitely relate. Our summer days have been action packed and our summer nights have been late ones. If I don’t think I can write a post from start to finish after the kids go to bed, I just won’t even start it. Look forward to the next, even if it’s another five weeks from now!
“Late ones” is a lovely euphemism for “ran too little, drank too much.” :)
Ha! We were just in Macy’s this weekend and happened to enter through the men’s doors. I though Grace was going to lose it as we walked past the men’s underwear on our way out. Giggling, “that is so weird, mom.”
Ha. I would like to see a drawing from Grace about this experience, her attention to detail is spot on.