I was inspired by my friend Amanda over at The Zen Leaf and her weekly “Sunday Coffee” posts. The post feels like a remarkable catch-up with a friend over a cup of java. I’ve been trying to think of a clever way to title my chatty, rambling posts, and I do love coffee. Hence, Coffee Talk.
Only right now I’m not drinking coffee. I do like tea, but coffee is my life force. Alas it is 9:36 pm on Sunday, July 24th, and I am pass my coffee curfew. Instead I’m drinking a milky Imperial Earl Grey Tea in my literary first lines mug.
And yes, this wee post is coming to fruition on a Tuesday morning in the future. I know many bloggers write and post things for the future, but I’ve never been good at it. So much can happen in 48 hours, but I don’t the world will stop turning if what I say now is no longer true on Tuesday morning. Wibbly wobbly time stuff.
I very nearly deleted my blog this summer. I love the community, but I was trying to do too many things and feeling unnecessarily stretched thin. I have three kids, a husband in college, a 40-hour a week job and my bipolar II disorder takes some skillful managing and self-care. That is just scratching the surface. I have so much I want to do. I bullet journal, read, and would love to get back to crochet. I enjoy cooking dinner for my family and miss baking bread and scones. I’m itching to get back to yoga and I’m backlogged on snail mail letters to write.
Throughout all of these relationships, hobbies, and daily tasks (aka life) there is one thing that constantly pulls at me almost as much as my love for my kids. Writing. I don’t know how I’ve managed to do it, but I’m clocking in a solid five to nine hours a week writing and reading poetry. My home and office is stacked with slender volumes of verse. I pour over interviews with poets and literary journals. I jot, draft, craft, and revise. I read my poems aloud. I read the poems of others aloud. I submit and I’m assembling a humbling rejection pile (but, as Sylvia Plath said in her journals, “if I don’t write in spite of this, in spite of rejections, I don’t deserve acceptances”). I’m doing the one thing I’ve wanted to do since third grade and I’m ditching all those worries over failing or looking stupid or being subpar and I’m just fucking doing it.
I still want to blog, but in order for this all to work: parenting, career, writing, marriage, etc… I have to have a time and a place for everything.
Sunday afternoon for a few hours and Sunday evening for a few hours more is my time to blog. If I don’t write it on a Sunday then *poof* no blog that week. I have a page in my bullet journal of topics and ideas and that helps me manage my time. I find blogging in the this wedge of time allows me to enjoy crafting posts and not worry about “leveling up” in the blogosphere. I enjoy my time with Fig and Thistle and then I walk away and live my life. There is social media to connect with my blog buds and I’m certainly finding other creative ways to express myself. The pressure is off on blogging and, as a result, I am back to enjoying it.
Now, look at these gorgeous flowers Sam brought home for me today. Persy Jane picked them out for me.