The beautiful thing about a personal blog is that it serves so many purposes. First and foremost, it gets the creative juices flowing, and leaves me with a sense of satisfaction, even relief, after publishing. It gets the brain active, and it doesn’t seem to matter about what. But blogging is something more than simply an intellectual warm-up exercise – I know this because I’m no good at exercising, and when this is what it becomes, I am not disciplined enough to write. I tried earlier this year to blog as a warm-up between the school/kindy drop-off routine and my morning study time, but I found it lacked the satisfaction that comes from exploring and discovering within my own imagination, and so I lost the enthusiasm for it.
Previously I’d kept a blog for several years, which became more like a friend, one that I could tell everything to and not feel judged, or compelled to explain or justify. In the year following the loss of my third child through miscarriage, that blog became my very best friend. I poured out my soul in every post – I questioned, raged, doubted, accused, hoped, feared, desired – and all without fault or interruption. It was beautiful, and it was exactly what I needed.
But the ‘newness’ of my current life requires a new page. The previous blog is, to my mind, leather-bound and complete. Nothing more can be added. So here I find myself, at the prompting of a friend who writes from the heart with such honesty and understanding that it seems at times she is holding up a mirror. My initial fascination with her writing has prompted once again the cravings to blog for myself.
I am hesitant to describe what kind of things I might write about here, since I’m a firm believer in Forster’s idea of “How can I know what I think till I see what I say?” But if my life situation is anything to go by then with a husband and three kids, a cat, an assortment of extended family members who feature heavily in my everyday life, the move into a new town just a year ago, a new church experience which can be compared to a carnival ride I went on as a kid called ‘Viper’, the beginning of a BA in English, a background of clinical depression which rears its ugly head from time to time, sports, school, kindy, and the day to day running of a home while trying to maintain some sanity, grace, and the ability to still call myself a genuine follower of Christ, then I would hazard a guess that this blog will have its ups and downs, each post will have its own flavour, and perhaps the best description might just have to be “Reflections of a Stay-at-home-mum”.