Into the Abyss (aka My Return to Blogging)

The Abyss

My wife breathes faster than me. I know this because I had insomnia the other night and I thought that if I matched her rhythm, I would fall asleep too. Instead I hyperventilated. This made matters worse. I tossed and turned for three hours, my thoughts doing the same inside my head. In the end I drugged myself (extra-strength tylenol, trazadone) to sleep. This meant I drugged myself again (coffee, ibuprofen) to wake the next morning. Oy.

I would like to blame my nerves for this inability to rest (I had a 7:30am medical procedure, more on that in a later post). They certainly did contribute, but the real culprit is this blog entry. Writing my first post after a three month break has proven to be more nerve-wracking than I realized.

Perseverate is an apt word for it. I perseverate on words. Writing is like a puzzle, a mathematical exercise in putting sounds and phrases together in harmony. The problem is my obsessive relationship with words. I take them to bed with me at night and lose sleep over better synonyms. I chew on them throughout the day and lose focus on other things (like, my daughter, for example...). And if, after all that worry, I still manage to write an offensive essay, it completely crushes me.

Which is what happened at one point this summer. For an entire month I cried, knowing that I had hurt people (unintentionally) with my words. And because the issue was related to parenting, a cloud of self-doubt settled over my daily proceedings. My good friend termed this period "BlogGate," as she listened kindly to my worries. To complicate matters, it corresponded with a surge of growth in Nug's personality, and I felt I could no longer write about her and protect her personhood at the same time. I was bound and gagged; it seemed impossible to say anything wise about parenting when I felt so overwhelmingly humbled by it.

At the strong urging of my wife (the one with sanity during my bout of depression), I quit writing my blog. I enrolled in a writing class where kind people said nice things. I stopped reading other blogs. I slept better and focused more. I cozily watched television with my wife at night. It was a period of calm for us, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been placed under house arrest. 

Artists have to follow their passions, and writing is my art. So I am back to blogging. This time, however, I'm doing it with a few more boundaries. For example, you will see fewer photos posted and there's no mention as to where I live and what our names are. Sorry. You'll just have to imagine the gorgeous beauty that I am. To the best of my ability, my posts will focus on me rather than my daughter, and there will be fewer of them. And if you are reading this, you are the select few invited to read this blog, because the internet is a scary place and if I get another search phrase of "poop pee puke girls," I'm OUT! 

So be kind and keep the compliments flowing. I'd like to get some sleep tonight.