I feel like I blog about blogging – or not blogging – a lot. Every post I think of writing has to do with my lack of writing. But here I am, doing it again.
For two years, I’ve been trying to “get back into” my blog. I’ve missed posting, but I can’t seem to make the time or deem anything worthy of publishing. So, here I sit – lamenting the blog that once was.
And that’s my problem.
Today, I read this post by Sharon at Speed Skating Mom. It resonated with me not because Q is like her son, but because I was like him. I still am like him – not wanting to participate if I know others are better than I am. I don’t do anything I used to do, or that I really enjoyed doing – because someone has already done it. Better than me. And in the case of this blog, that someone was me.
The archives of this blog hold some really, really great posts – the best writing I’ve ever done. I look back with pride – and a little awe at the ability that seems to have abandonned me.
There are better writers than I am. There are better bloggers that I am. There always will be. What stifles me is my former self – I can’t compete with her. I don’t have the time or energy or motivation.
So, where does that leave me? Writing about not writing. I’m not sure if that’s sad or ironic.