Somewhere I lost sight of the sparkle that beamed whenever I was doing something blog related. It wasn't the layout. It wasn't my failed attempts to use social media adequately. It was the life curation. Editing out the meh bits sounds so brilliant, but in trying to pretend everything was fabulous all the time I forgot to let myself feel sad. Or overwhelmed. Or confused. Reader surveys told me 'woe is me posts' were awful. They weren't intended to read in that way. I wasn't a great writer back then, not that I am now, but I wasn't in a good place. It turns out, despite me thinking I can process everything in a fairly rational way so thoughts become almost entirely unimportant within a few minutes, not having some kind of outlet, a place to talk freely as and when things pop into my head isn't great. 'In real life' I'm a quiet person. I don't necessarily talk about how I'm feeling or what's going on. That's not to say I don't understand those comments. I totally do. You've had a really bloody long day at school/work/the beck and call of small children and you just want to read about beauty, look at a gorgeous outfit, or bookmark the best looking cake recipe you've ever seen in the hopes that you'll have enough time to try and recreate it one day soon. You don't want a window into someone's existential crisis.
With so many stunning blogs that have very focused and consistent posts, I'm almost entirely convinced you don't choose to stop by sailboat to see those things. Because I'm not focused. And I'm not consistent. But I am a bit lonely. Connecting with people isn't something that comes easily to me. Very recently the spectacular Tori has come into my life. We're similar in many ways. But she has this incredible ability to connect with people and make them feel like they're the most important person in the world as she's speaking to them, or listening intently to what they have to say. And I know that because that's exactly how she makes me feel. That's an intrinsic and very organic part of her nature. And somehow I've found myself exchanging lengthy emails with someone I've only known exists for a week, because I took a leap and actually said something without automatically assuming no one would care or be able to relate. To be honest it's been a bit of a revelation and I can't thank Tori enough for rebooting a little part of me I feared might have shut down forever.
There's no danger of me going for the 'laying absolutely everything out for the world to see' thing. There's no intention to dump all of my earthly concerns or burdens on to you. But in between the beauty posts (because I still bloody love make up), or wishlists (because I still bloody love looking at pretty things), monthly lifestyle favourites (because I still bloody love weird things), or things that make me happy posts (because I still bloody love being happy as often as possible and appreciating the little things!) there may be more general musings. If they're vague they're not cryptic, they're just imperfect, unfinished thoughts that may once have been scribbled down on the back of a napkin and lost forever, or worse, lodged at the back of my mind forever being dwelt upon, that I'm noting down in order to hopefully approach them in a more objective way.
They won't always be particularly important. Will I ever eat oats for breakfast, or is toast just my thing forever? Or sad. This really hurts, do you know what will make me feel better? Or serious, because sometimes they'll just be plain silly. Is it possible to go through life without having to iron anything? People keep telling me I should at least own an iron, but I think that sounds like a bit of a slippery slope! And if you're ever feeling something similar, maybe we can connect and try and figure it out together? A problem shared is a problem halved. Not always the case, but sometimes another perspective, another mind with a different way of processing thoughts can open minds to something completely new and previously unfathomable.
Hello, my name is Jennie.
Would you like to be friends?
|Banks - This Is What It Feels Like|
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