Mary + Her Mental Health

Last night, I was on the phone with a really good friend, the kind that never lets a desire for decency override the truth. “Mary,” she says, “I got on your blog this week.” Yeah, I said. “Well…it just hasn’t been the same lately. I feel like your heart isn’t behind it. I’m not reading you in your posts. Is this fair to say?” Yeah, I said. Then we talked a little about why.

I never wanted to have one of those blogs where all you write about is what you did that day, or what sweaters you wear and why. I used to put way more of myself into my posts. Waaaay more. Too much, in fact. Now I put too little, I’m aware of that. Not that this warrants a cover story, but it is interesting to think about why I stopped putting my heart into the blog. Boredom? Fear? Allergies?

Talking beyond just my blog posts now, I know who I want to be - honest and real, but honestly, really, good. I want to feel free to gripe and be petty because I have a real talent for that and I need to share it. But I think I’m going to write more about what really interests me, even if I get zero comments and I have to feel all naked about it. Come on, you know it’s true. Whenever I try and stray just a little from the hairy lesbian couple on the bus formula, nobody sends me any love. (It’s cool, though.) I need to write about what I really think about, what I really do and feel, otherwise where is the point in writing at all? This is what I think my friend was trying to tell me. Just because there will be endless space for all the pointless, mentally vacant, blogposts ever conceived by man doesn’t mean I have no obligation to try and make your visit to my blog a worthwhile stop.

I feel a renewed sense of direction and purpose. And the summer months are coming. Which means lots of downtime at work. May it yield sweet, succulent, bloggy fruit is my dearest hope.

Labels: deep and reflective