What happens when we write from the heart?
I recently read an article written by a fellow blogger who said when she started blogging ten years ago, she saw it as “simply journaling – an electronic version of something she’d done as a child in her pink Hollie Hobby diary” – a place to write from her heart without – at the time, she said, considering the lives she might touch, the audience she might reach.
Instead, she focused on chronicling her life. She said over the years (and through conversation with others), she’s come to realize that blogging is a way for her to invite folks into her home virtually, sharing details of her family’s life – children graduating, her husband’s illness, those sorts of things – and recognizes her responsibility to her audience and the ramifications of her words.
Her article got me to thinking: What if I blogged from the heart?
There have been occasions when I have. For instance, when my youngest sister was diagnosed with breast cancer and when I was struggling with leaving the classroom for the second and final time. In both instances (which happened, ironically, simultaneously), I was overwhelmed and shared my journey.
But for the most part,
I don’t blog from the heart, I don’t blog with my ‘most real’ thoughts and feelings coming out in living color. Instead, they are tucked neatly into a nicer version – for reasons I explained in candid detail a few nights ago. Then, as I was ready to save the draft, WP informed me that my Wi-Fi had dropped and I was offline. I couldn’t save my draft. Poof. Just like that, my heartfelt blog post (400+ words) about why I don’t write from the heart, was gone.
Don’t want to hurt people’s feelings.
Don’t want to offend people.
Don’t want to create conflict.
Blah. Blah. Blah. <– (real me!)
Karmic intervention? Maybe.
Either way, I didn’t share what’s really happening in my head and heart most of the time.
For now, here’s my heart and head –
- I use colorful words liberally – but not here – usually. 😉
- Snarky, sarcastic, humorous(?) thoughts run through my head more often than I should admit.
- I absolutely detest rude, ill-mannered, loud, lazy, and/or stupid people. Shut the hell up. Get off your butt. Act like an adult. Show some respect – for yourself and others. No, the world does not revolve around you.
- Quit being a bully. Quit being a victim. Quit trying to control every damn thing.
- Family and friends tick me off and/or disappoint me often (I know – I allow it and I know – they’d say the same about me).
- I feel deeply sad and intensely angry about things happening in our world – close to home and far away. Why can’t we be kinder, gentler, more civilized? Why can’t we show some grain of intelligence – as a nation, as a community, as individuals??
- I am increasingly choosing quiet over noise…. it’s a conscious decision. And I like it. A LOT. Yes, I hear you. I just don’t want to hear you all the time…. I hear you. And I am thinking.
There it is – from my heart. Today. Right now. In this instant.
This is the poetry I’m living.
I feel like I just flung open our front door and said, “Come on in for coffee!” As an increasingly introverted gal, that’s just downright painful!
Maybe I’ll start an anonymous blog.
UPDATE: I wrote this post in January 2017, but kept it private until today – September 13, 2021. It’s interesting how four years can change things. Since then, important people in my life, including my mom, have died. I chose to retire early from public Education, we moved back to the coast (thankfully, finally), and I’ve been steadily finding my way back to writing (including blogging).
I recently launched a monthly newsletter, All About the Process: Life, Learning, and Creative Curiosity in honor of my mom and as a nod to my blog that began in 2009; it has provided safe space for me to think and share… You can read my newsletters by subscribing here.
For years, I encouraged students to write from the heart. Now I’m encouraging other grownups 🙂 to do the same….
In this season of life, I’m comfortable sharing from my heart now… it’s time to move past protecting me and on to connecting with others.