For the first time in a long time, I didn’t publish a style post last Saturday. The world kept on her axis. No plagues fell from the sky. Even I wasn’t too bothered.
I have a notebook full of ideas. Enough content to keep me writing pithy little posts about style for ages. But last week didn’t have enough space to steal. Actually, that’s a lie. There is always time somewhere. Books that didn’t have to be read. Social media scrolling that could have been cut short. Mornings that could have started earlier.
On Monday the littlest and I escaped to the beach. It felt exactly like that – a sneaky escape – something a little bit naughty about it. An unexpected pause in a busy life.
This blog offers that kind of escape as well. A place of rest.
But lately I have been feeling restless. Is this the best place for my writing? Is this still home?
For a long time I have wanted to write a book about grief. Something to help others through what we went through five years ago – the death of a newborn baby. Specifically the first year of grief and ideas on creative healing. I have been kidding myself that I can blog regularly (two posts a week) and also write the book.
The book remains unwritten. The posts are settled nicely into routine.
If this book is ever to emerge, I am going to have to introduce a new routine.
Change is always scary. I know how to punch out a blog post. It is familiar and cosy. I don’t know how to write a book. Don’t know what lies in those fields.
I am fearful. Fearful that I will be paralysed by emotion as I start to recount something that picks at scar tissue. Worried that those feelings are now so distant that I won’t be able to truly capture them. Petrified that I won’t do my dear Xavier justice. I have always been concerned by that, whenever I do something for him. It has to be so beatifically perfect. Radiating with love and grace. These small windows in which I can still be his mother deserve nothing less.
What if the words are awkward? If they fail to convey what I want them to? What if I can no longer reach him?
These are the things that are keeping me away from something I really want to do. That and time.
So I am going to remove the time barrier. The few hours I sneak on Saturday mornings to write two blog posts will instead be given to the book. To my boy.
I’ll write occasionally about how I am going – I think that’s a good way to remain accountable. But, for a little while at least, I’ll stop posting regularly.
One barrier down. Several more to battle.
Do you ever feel like you have to let go of something you love doing to make way for something else?