Excuse me, has someone seen my mojo?

July 19, 2011 at 8:00 am | Posted in Moving On., The Community | 14 Comments

Mel has a great post today in defense of blogs.

I’m going to be honest: my attention to blogs, including this one, has been half-hearted lately.

I started writing here because I thought it would be neat to write about my life. I posted maybe three or four times in the first few months.

And then we were diagnosed with infertility and did IVF. And I got pregnant with what turned out to be a chemical pregnancy. And then it took us another 2 some odd years to bring home a baby.

And I found support and love and coping through writing about our struggle to bring home my O.

A real COMMUNITY, people I loved and supported and who in turn supported me.

It’s been nearly 6 years since I opened my blog.

And in that time, so many have had babies and siblings, and stopped writing because they’ve either moved on, or lost time, or came to the same place I’m in right now and drifted away.

Because right now? I’m uncertain where to go with this space.

I don’t have the emotional reserves to comment on every blog of someone who is trying for children right now, to reach out and forge new connections with some really amazing bloggers, to keep up that sense of community I found so valuable here.

I can’t get past my own selfishness, maybe.

But I’m so far beyond the details of my cycles, the obsessing over symptoms, the questioning of my doctors, the worry and fear, but the excitement and hope of FINALLY having a shot of getting pregnant… that I’m not a really good source of support.

And when someone does get pregnant, well, it’s something that I won’t have again, so there’s emotion there, too. Right now it makes me question our decision to stop. What if we stopped one cycle too soon? Should we have used those leftover embryos? There’s still time, should we revisit the discussion AGAIN?

It’s exhausting.

So I’ve been reading less, using the Facebook method of scanning posts, clicking onto them sometimes only to clear out my Google reader.

And I’ve done less with this space, too. I used to write daily. Now? I often come here in the hopes of writing a new post, but seeing the blank post screen is daunting, and I have to close it out because I have NO idea what I should write about.

I could write about O, about how awesome and hard he is to parent right now, how I struggle with patience because he’s insistent on doing everything his way all by himself but how proud I am that he’s working so hard on being independent. I could write about how much I cherish our snuggle time in front of the TV, or at night before he drifts off to sleep. How proud of him I am with the real progress he’s making on the potty training front, seemingly all on his own.

But I can’t keep up with him in real life sometimes. Every gorgeous moment with him gets overwritten by the next tantrum, which gets overwritten by the unprompted I love you, Mommy.

Parenting a three year old has more ups and downs than navigating the emotions of cycling when you’re infertile.

I could write about running, how my marathon training is going – chronicle my progress towards my October race.

But OMFG the mileage itself is a commitment – it takes so much of my time. I feel the pressure to get my mileage in at all times, and as much as I love running (I really REALLY love it, even with the time commitment and low-grade stress of getting the miles in), I have a hard time really writing about it because I spend so much time thinking about it and doing it.

I could write about how unhappy I am with accounting and how much I long to find a career that makes me really, truly happy. But I’m terrified of changing careers, because what happens if I spend the time and start over at square one, do something else, and then in a few years I hate that, too?

And so I end up writing about the same stuff. I repeat the same theme over and over again. I’m sad I can’t have another baby, I’m moving on, I’m healing. I’m happy I have O, we’re lucky, but goddamn it, IF is unfair and it sucks that our family size was taken out of our hands.

And then I feel like a broken record. Stuck in the same old same old.

Really, who wants to HEAR about that shit? Again?

Truthfully, I don’t. There are times when I re-read my posts and I think “Geez, Serenity, just move the fuck ON already.”

I wish I could.

I wish I could make this blog a project, where I could write well-written, educated posts about whatever in depth topic I found interesting at the time.

It’s funny.

I think what’s going on with my blog is that it EXACTLY mirrors where I am in my life right now. Sort of stuck. No time or energy to invest in a new project. Scared to move onto some place else, another blog where I am someone new (and yes, I’ve actually done the work to create a new blog. Haven’t done much with it yet. Too daunting), without a lot of the baggage infertility gave me.

I feel like, right now, I’m stuck on a rock in the middle of a river. Where all around me Time rushes past, churning, eddying, bubbling.

And I am SO aware of the time passing, watching it rush by me, see all the changes it’s made to the lives of people I love; watch in envy as someone goes by me, headed down the branch of the river I thought I might take.

I hate feeling stuck. I crave movement, a new goal, change.

By the same token, I’m terrified of movement, a new goal, change.

What if I jump into the river and find myself unable to swim?

Or even worse: what if I jump in and get swept along, and in 20 or 30 or 70 years I’m consumed with regret for the things I DIDN’T do?

Not really sure where to go from or here. Or how to end this post. I want to wrap it up into a neat bow and tell you all that this is my call to arms that I need to change up my life, really recapture it and take charge.

I just don’t know that it works that way. I think I’m going to wait here, stuck on this rock, until I’m either pushed in by circumstance or I feel confident in my ability to swim down the next branch of the river into the unknown.



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  1. I can’t tell you what to do with your blog (or much less, your life), but here is what I have to say – I was reading ALI blogs for several years before I started my own, commenting regularly on a few of them. When I finally started my own blog, I posted comments on a few blogs I was regularly reading, saying “hey, I started my own blog, check it out”. One person commented on my blog once or twice, then stopped. The others, nothing. But you – you added me to your reader immediately, commented regularly, offered support, suggested a playdate. I’m so glad you did. And like I said, the others didn’t do anything at all (which is okay; I’ve made new blog friends).

    If you are that supportive of everyone, though, no wonder you’re worn out. We’re all at different places in our lives, dealing with different issues, and it’s less clear where you fit in if you’re not TTC. You don’t have to be a friend to everyone who reads your blog, unless you’re enjoying it. I know this is easier said than done, but I wish there was a way you could just let go, write about what you want to write about, comment on posts you want to comment on, and not worry about having a theme.

    And I would miss reading if you stopped blogging, but please, it’s not about me. Good luck!

  2. Interesing that you write this. I’ve been toying with the idea of shutting my blog down. I’ve decided to shut it down. I’m to busy living my life to write about it. Which, in my eyes, is never a bad thing.
    Training, working, being a mom and wife are all full time jobs. Jobs that I find more important than writing a blog.
    As you morph into the next phase of Serenity (the person), some things will change, some will end, but there are also a ton of new beginnings.

  3. I like reading your shit, whatever package it comes in. I can’t tell you what to do with this space but if you are drawn to the act of writing and the mood strikes you, write about parenting, or running, or what you eat, or the emotional cliff you are on, or if you have found a particularly useful gadget or, or, or.

    I guess what I am saying, is that one’s personal blog space does not have to be pigeon-holed into a specific genre. We are all so much more than we write about and it is the act of writing itself that brings me back to my blog (because really, who wants to hear about how much I hate being in this limbo waiting for a domestic adoption match that may never come).

  4. 3 years olds are rough…

    • Katy – BEST. POST. EVER. Too true!

  5. Serenity–I wish life was easier right now. I think we all could use a time machine right now so that we could see that our decisions now would be the right ones.

    Failing that, I do wish you would blog about whatever…but I can understand your feelings about what to write about.

    Just know we are there for you in whatever you do.

  6. I hope you do continue blogging because I get a lot out of what you write. But, I also understand wanting to get unstuck and wondering if a change is the way to do it.

  7. I would miss your blog.. I don’t always comment but i always read.. You have been so kind to me and you “get it” when a lot of people don’t.. You have probably helped more people than you know.. Do what is right for YOU. All the best in the world to you!!

  8. I would miss your blog, even though we connect off blog as well. But you have to do what works for you.

  9. I swear I could write this exact post on my blog (well, minus the accounting bit). I read Mel’s post and while I haven’t abandoned my blog in favor of other social media, I don’t know where to go with it. Six years, so much help and heartache, but I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m still infertile, but geeze, I have to stop writing about that someday, right?

    Anyway, I love your blog, always have.

  10. Well it ran off with mine, I know that.

    Keep writing. Even if its mundane–your like one of my security blankets in my Google reader, and you have been for a long time.

  11. Yup. I hear you. I’ve really been stuck with my blog since I had Kate, unsure of what to use it for, torn between being just a parenting blog versus thoughtful posts on important topics like birth and infertility and IVF. Needless to say the thoughtful posts just don’t get written. My mojo’s gone, too.

  12. Oh, I’ve been on that rock so many times and it really sucks. But what I learned is that sometimes sitting on that rock (and being miserable/bored/stuck/whatever) is the very best thing you can do. You’ll know what to do when you see it. And if you don’t? Life will happen anyway, and maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised. I actually find it a really interesting process to read about, this being stuck stuff, and the grappling with what to do next. Of course I might just be weird that way…

  13. Wow, can I just say, I could have written this post! I totally know how you feel. I just put up a post about it today, actually it’s more about my relationship with my blog and navigating those changes. It’s been hard and I don’t necessarily enjoy it. I hope I can figure it out again soon.

    I also feel stuck. Our financial situation is not great right now and we’re postponing TTC#2 indefinitely (and this is hard, very hard). There are no foreseeable changes at my work. There is nothing I can work towards or look forward to. I just have to immerse myself in every single day. And the thing is I’m relatively happy. Why do I feel this need to move towards something else? Eventually there will be no where else to be and I will have to find joy in the life I’ve made for myself.

    I wrote about this at one point, about how your whole childhood and early adulthood is you waiting for and working towards the next phase. And then suddenly you wake up and you’re there, you’ve arrived and there is no more school and you found your partner and you have a kid and you’re like, wow, it was all for this. But you’re so used to moving towards something it’s hard to sit still. I think having kids helps with that because you can watch them grow and change and look forward to their milestones and being able to share things with them as they are ready for it. I think that is part of why I wanted to have kids, because I wanted to do childhood all over again, only this time sharing what I loved instead of experiencing it for the first time (although experiencing with a child can be like experiencing it for the first time again).

    This is the post where I speak a bit about this, about being suddenly “ensconced in a life instead of embarking on one”.


    I hope you find a direction that feels right for you and your family. Good luck.

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