When I started this site, my daughters were 3 and 5. I couldn’t imagine a day where I wouldn’t be able to talk about them anymore. But if you’ve noticed, I haven’t posted in two months.
Being a mom blogger is pretty easy when your kids are little. There are lots of products to review and funny stories to tell about things they said or did. Writing about your hopes and dreams for them is easy.
As the kids get older, you have to be more careful what you write about so as not to embarrass them or invade their privacy. You can still write things in general terms, but you know your friends and their friends might see the post, so you get more cautious.
I’ve hit a point right now where I can’t write anything. Our life has reached a crossroads that has me living hour by hour wondering what is going to happen to us next. I’m filled with so much anxiety that even sitting at the computer for more than a couple of hours is almost impossible. I can’t even hint at what it’s about because talking about it publicly could ruin our lives even further. So I stay clear of writing about anything family related.
On the flip side, I can’t bring myself to write fluffy pieces about Disney contests or summer fashion because I would feel like a fake. Nothing in me cares about any of that stuff right now. I’ve always tried to be authentic on my blog and social media. To do otherwise right now would be to turn my back on 13 years of work and reputation building.
So I’m stuck. I can’t write about my life. I can’t write about fluff. And if I don’t write, the Great Google will penalize my site and I won’t make any money. I stand to lose over a decade of work of building this site. It’s kind of like pouring salt over the wound that is already gaping on my heart. With everything else I feel like I’m losing, I guess money should be the least of my worries?
I don’t know what is going to break any of this open. Things might work out and go back to normal. Or they might not work out and I’ll have to find a new normal. Either way, I hope you will stick with me—us—until we get to the other side.