Is Blogging Self-Indulgent?

After initially starting this blog, I mustered up the courage to mention it to a few friends.  Yes, I  actually "mustered up," because I was afraid of their reaction.  And sure enough, my fear was justified.  (I should preface this by saying that ALL of these women, except one other stay at home mom, work outside the home.  They ALL have families.  And they are ALL busy.)  Following my announcement, they all smiled their half-hearted, "oh that's nice" smile.  Except for one.   The one I can always count on to say exactly what's on her mind.

And she did:  "Isn't that a little self-indulgent?  I mean who has time to sit and write about her life all day." 

Well, she, surely,  doesn't.  She's a judge.  And if she's not at work, she is thinking about work, while commuting to and from work.  She does, however, have the standard weekend free time.  And like most of us, she spends it doing her favorite things: cooking, baking and knitting very cute monkeys for her friends' kids.  (And for the record, I love this woman.  I just wish she would fine-tune the filter that goes from her brain to her mouth.)

Not really sure how to defend myself, (not even sure I needed defending) I quickly replied, "oh, it's just for fun"  and then moved the conversation on to safer topics.  To food, to work, to our kids.  To anything, but my blog.  

But her words struck a nerve.  And they have stayed with me--for a long time.  Too long!  (evidence that I clearly overly-obsess.  Wait- is it possible to overly obsess?  Isn't that by definition what an obsession is?  According to Dictionary.com, YES!  The domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.) Domination and persistent being the key words here.  But enough obsessing.

Unfortunately, like with most things, I took my friend's words much too personally.  It's a problem I have.   And so the obsession continued--for months!  And with it,  the questions: Was she right?  Am I being self-indulgent when I spend time blogging?  Don't I have anything better to do?  Shouldn't I, instead, be focused on my Stay-At-Home-Mom duties?  You know; the dusting, the sweeping, the mopping.  And, God Forbid,  the cleaning of the oven.  Until finally, to shut them up, I stopped.  Oh, every so often I'd pop in and reread an old post, but just as quickly I'd move on.  To more important things.

But I missed it.  I missed the act of writing.  I missed sitting at my desk.  Logging in and clicking away on the keyboard when the words came fast and furious.  I even missed staring at my fingernails, or out the front window, or at the calendar Nora made me for Mother's Day last year, when they did not.  I missed the whole process.

And so, instead, I did what I have always done.  I wrote in secret.  The old fashioned way.  With pen and paper.  In bed at night, while Dave and the girls slept.  And I have the scribble filled papers, in my nightstand drawers, to prove it.   It was a win-win situation, right?  I mean, I got to write.  But it was TOTALLY on my time.  It wasn't taking any time away from my real job.  Everything was getting done.  And everyone was happy (if not a little sleep deprived).

But then one night, my sweet husband rolled over, probably because the light from my head lamp was keeping him awake, and asked, "why don't you do that during the day?  Then you won't be so tired."  I could have kissed him!  I probably did.

So after much thought, because that's what we obsessive types do, I resumed my blog.  Self-indulgence be damned!  Okay, that's not true.  I will never be one of those people who doesn't care what others think.  Despite what I tell my children.  Because, like everyone, I want to feel accepted, and respected.  What I can do is try harder.

So the next time someone wants to know just who the heck I am, blogging away when my kids are at school and my husband is off at work, I will say,

I am Sonja

I am a college graduate
I am a teacher (of the unpaid variety)
I am a mother, a wife (not in that order)
and
I am a writer (also of the unpaid variety)

And I will write.

Because writers write.  Whether it's a blog, or a journal, or a story, or an email to a far-away friend.   (Hi Angie, in Italy!) Because that's what we love.  Because the thoughts keep coming.  They are always there, rattling around.  A "whisper....pestering (me) all along from the back of (my) mind."(From The Life of Pi.)

I know now that it doesn't matter how or where I put my words. It doesn't even matter if anyone ever reads them.  What matters is that I take the time to put them somewhere.   Because writing helps me get through the day, through life.  It allows me to feel creative, when so much of my time is spent pursuing the mundane.  In short, it makes me feel good.  And if feeling good about one's self is self-indulgence, well, then, so-be-it. 

So to all those out there who think blogging is a self-indulgent waste of time, let me just say, I disagree.  For anything that allows us to feel creative, articulate, witty, serious, and free, has to be a good thing.  Now if you're just worried about the laundry, or the dishes.  Don't.  Because, like we've all heard before, life is about balance.  And if you pay any attention to the frequency of my blog posts, you will note that my blog is certainly NOT my top priority.  What you WILL note, is that it's a part of who I am.  It's part of what makes me tick.

And like I have always told my girls, if you want something bad enough, you have to go for it.  You have to do it.  And so I'm doing it.  I'm writing for me.  For no one else.  Well, maybe for my oldest daughter.  Because on my last birthday she gave me the best gift; a journal.  "So I'd have a place to write my ideas, and stories, rather than ratty pieces of paper."  She was right.  I do need a place.  And it's right here.  So I'll write for her too.

xoxo-
S