Blogging Milestones

OK folks, this is it. Post #300! Wow.

I have been rather quiet of late. Mostly because I rarely think of anything but the election, and I'm also rather sure everyone is tired of hearing me prattle on about it. I just can't seem to get anything to come out of my fingers unless it is politically related. So there you go.

Looking back over the life of Bearsmountain, it has become clear to me that it really has become a huge part of my life. A place (one of the only ones) that I can really be "me." I really never guessed it would become what it has become, or that people would actually read it. My blogging life started with a need to chronicle my feelings, that's all.

It's done so many things for me. I've met friends I would never have met.

I think it has allowed me to become more disciplined about my writing. My writing is now a much bigger part of my life than it was before I began blogging. It was sporadic at best before. I would write in my journal when I needed to get things out, but not in any kind of regular way. Blogging has allowed me to own my feelings in a much greater sense.

It is crazy to me that I've kept at this as long as I have. I don't see myself stopping anytime soon.

So there you go, post #300...done and gone.

Peace,

OC

Writing the Path to Me

I sat down last night, and started writing, I mean really writing. I’ve always wrote, but in short bursts of energy.

I had a good night last night. I rocked both my babies to sleep. My baby girl, she begged me to rock her. Daddy said, she’s three, she’s too old. All the sudden, I got my back up in a huff and thought, she is NOT too old.

So I gathered her up in all of her just bathed, soft sleeper baby fuzziness and rocked my baby girl to sleep. She went down so fast, so peacefully.

Then my son, who is 5, begged me to rock him while I was rocking his sister to sleep. I finally gave in, and said “OK”. I let him go watch some TV downstairs while I rocked her.

When I finally put her in her little bed, all sleepy, warm and peaceful, I went downstairs and grabbed up my little son. I turned off the TV, and he climbed up on me. I held him close, and could almost see my sweet baby boy, as I had rocked him for so many years while nursing him to sleep.

It was so precious.

Just him, me and the story he was telling me as his eyes grew sleepy. After about 20 minutes, I gathered him up along with his stuffed snake, and carried him upstairs and tucked him into bed. He sleepily protested, but his eyes were closed before I was out of the room.

I then went back downstairs, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat down with the TV off, and the music on, and started writing a story. I was amazed at how into it I was.

I wrote long into the night, until my eyes were so tired they were closing, and I was still typing. I didn’t want to go to bed, I didn’t want to stop. I woke up thinking about it this morning. I feel like I’ve made some new friends.

Maybe all this blogging is finally unlocking my brain enough to let go.

I realized last night that I do know how to write, and write well. It’s just a matter of organizing myself to do so. All those years in college English classes, did teach me how to structure a sentence (although nothing will ever teach me to spell correctly).

All the years of voracious reading, did teach me how a story unfolds, and how to pace it, to let it trickle along, like a little stream, until it turns into a river full of rapids.

Last night, I felt myself falling in love with the characters I had created. I don’t know why it had never occurred to me, that I can create in my head, and put down in words, the romantic stories I’ve been craving. It felt good. It felt right.

I’ve always known that journaling was the way to get your creative juices flowing, but I’ve never had the self discipline to do it.

This last year, and mostly in the last 6 or 8 months, blogging has become an increasingly important part of my life. I’ve found a community of like minded souls who have given me nothing but support, ideas and even if they don’t agree with what I’m saying, they are respectful with their responses.

I have asked people in my “real life” if they ever read blogs, most of them don’t even know what a blog is, or what it does.

Right now, the people in my life that are closest to knowing the “real” me, are the people that actually read my blog. This is where I keep the part of myself that I do not show the outside world. It’s funny, when I started this, I thought of all the anonymity I would have and I do.

But, what I didn’t count on was making the friends, the real soul connections I have made with a few of you out there, and you know who you are.

So I want to say thank you for giving me comfort during this time when I’ve been so scared and unsure of where and what I was doing. For that matter, I still am scared of what is to come, but I know, I’m not alone out in this big bad world. That there are people out there who do care.

Just because my forum is through the written word, doesn’t make it any less valid than the relationships I have in “real” life. If anything, I’m more honest, more open and more accepted here than anyplace else.

I will make it through this pain thing. I will learn how to deal with it, in a way that makes me a stronger person. I really love living my life, I don’t want it diminished because of this, so I believe there is some lesson I need to learn right now. My body is trying to teach me something, and I need to listen to it. The path is there, I need to learn how to read the signs.

Peace,

OC