It’s weird, that post title. Blogging for blogging’s sake.
It’s completely open to interpretation. You can read it negatively: it could mean that you’re just showing up because that’s what’s expected. Punching in, publishing a new post, punching out, going home. You’re blogging to be included in blogging because that’s what’s done. You’re blogging so you don’t fall off the blogging radar.
You can read it positively: it could mean that blogging is the purpose itself. You’re not (necessarily) blogging to share a lesson, or a life hack, or a ‘top ten songs to listen to while you eat bananas’ list because that’s what you think you should do. You’re blogging to write. You’re blogging to share. You’re blogging to connect.
You can read it one of these ways, or any other way.
Weird. You bring your own attitude and feelings to that post title. Blogging for blogging’s sake can induce eye-rolling or fist pumping.
I’m wavering between interpretations. I keep showing up here, blogging. But is that good or bad? Am I doing it because I feel I have to? Or am I doing it because I want to?
I’m wavering. And when I waver, I go back to the start.
I started blogging to find my voice.
I am one of those stay-at-home mums who completely lost herself to being a stay-at-home mum. People say not to lose yourself to motherhood, but I did. Totally.
And that’s okay. It’s better than okay. It was necessary. Motherhood was my passion reset button.
If that pesky little global financial crisis hadn’t come along in 2008, my life would probably look very different right now. The organisation I worked for wouldn’t have been acquired by a Sydney-based one. I wouldn’t have been made redundant just before (finally) falling pregnant.
I loved that job; it was a great company, I had fantastic colleagues and the work was the right mix of challenging, fun and innovative. I wouldn’t have wanted to resign from that job to be a full-time stay-at-home mum (I think).
But I never had to make that decision. I didn’t have a job to return to. I could have applied for something new, but a) I didn’t want to work full-time and there were very few (if any) part-time roles being advertised, and b) I was actually enjoying the at-home thing.
Pre-kids, I didn’t think I would. I don’t mean that I didn’t think I’d enjoy motherhood in general. Just motherhood of the constantly-with-the-kids variety. I didn’t think I would revel in the play, the craft, the learning, the teaching, the rediscovery of the world at the micro level.
I thought I’d be climbing the walls with boredom by the six-month mark, but instead found myself relieved not to have to make the decision to either return to work or resign.
I felt a small itch, and started to miss my voice. But instead of scratching that itch with corporate work, I discovered blogging (and started freelancing).
And upon discovering blogging, I discovered that I had been missing my voice for longer than I realised. Because when you spend your life writing for corporates, you’re not using your voice. You’re using theirs.
With You learn something new every day (this blog’s original name), I blogged every single day about whatever I’d learnt that day. It wasn’t a big deal. Some posts were 20 words long. Others 100. And others almost 1,000.
Some posts were deep. I learnt about myself, motherhood and children’s development. I learnt about language and life.
Some posts were so completely undeep that calling them shallow feels wrong because it still suggests a degree of submersion. I ‘learnt’ about the Olympics, Christmas bonbon jokes and the tax advantages of buying ridiculously expensive garden gnomes for your investment properties.
As time went on, my focus moved from the lessons to the writing itself. I simply enjoyed writing, and the topics stopped mattering. What started to matter more were the people reading that writing. People connecting with the words, understanding them, and engaging with me to discuss them.
That connection is still the most important thing. But you need content to make the connection. And what that content is matters.
And so it goes around in a loop. The eternal frustrating loop of blogdom. I need to connect; I must write to connect; I should write something relevant; my post must be useful; I can’t just blog about anything; I can’t blog unless I have something important to say; I’m not connecting anymore because I don’t have anything to say; I need to connect.
Time to strip it back. I need to connect. But words can connect. Small words. Big words. Important words. Less important words. ANY words.
Not every post has to be a brilliant lesson, insight or tip. Not every post has to mean something more than HEY, this is on my mind at the moment – what do you think?
There are so many reasons to blog. All of them are valid.
My main reason to blog is to write, and to connect. And that’s enough.
Do you blog? What’s your main reason for blogging? What brought you here?