One Year.

One year ago I had never read a blog. 
I’m not kidding.
I’d heard the word, sure, but didn’t take blogs, blogging, or most especially, bloggers, seriously. After poking around on Pinterest one day at the end of February and being led to countless blogs, I had a hair brained idea that I could write one myself. So I threw together a template on blogger, wrote THIS post, and just like that my life took a 180. 

Am I exaggerating a bit by saying my life flipped that drastically? When I think back on all the things I’ve learned this past year (not only about the bloggesphere but about myself as well), how much my writing has evolved, and the accomplishments I’ve made (from the miniscule to the massivescule*), I think not. 

*I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – my blog = my words.

I came across this quote yesterday on Pinterest (the irony is not lost on me) and it’s relevance just floored me.

About 13 years ago I wrote a story for children that originated as a bedtime story for Thing 1 and quickly took the form of a picture book. It was (and is) an award winner, let me tell you. It’s just that, sadly, no one but my family has ever read it.  I knew it, though.  
And every year, in January, I’d say, “I should really try to get that book published.” And so for about a month I’d poke around on the internet, researching publishers and agents and ultimately getting overwhelmed and thinking it was a waste of time because there was no way my little book would ever see the shelves of a library or a bookstore. But still, year after year I’d read completely ridiculous and inane picture books to my girls and think, Man, if I’d just stuck with it last year, maybe by now my awesome and heartwarming book would be the one other parents are reading to their kids.
Every January for 13 years.
Funny how fast a year can go, isn’t it?
But last year, last year I can say that I started.
Oh, the children’s book manuscript is still tucked away in my desk (and I will get to it…one day), but that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about starting something that you’ve always wanted to do but maybe didn’t even realize it until you tried. 

I’m talking about taking a risk and diving in headfirst without taking a moment to talk yourself out of it….and sticking with it. 

I’m talking about starting something for you, no matter how big or how small.
Because that’s what this year has been for me. 

A year – the first in the past 17 – where I’ve done something solely for myself. Something that made me ‘put my money where my mouth is’ so to speak. Something (other than volunteering for field trips and throwing kick-ass birthday parties) that would make my girls, not to mention myself, proud.
All because I started.

A year ago I couldn’t imagine the spot I’d be in now.
I write words that more than a couple of hundred people read (on occasion) that make them smile, laugh, share and maybe even relate to. That is crazy.
And little by little, I’ve begun to feel like I’m maybe more than just a mom (a job that shouldn’t be prefaced by the word “just”, I realize, but in this case you hopefully get what I mean), and that I actually do have a brain that can process things other than Target lists or rehearsal schedules.
And even though I’m still working on being able to say this without over explaining or making self deprecating remarks (something I’ve struggled with forever), I now – one year later – call myself a writer.
Funny how fast a year can go, isn’t it?


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