Thursday, May 18, 2017

Blogging Boundaries

I don't want to write about politics. I thought that, after the election, all the political arguing and bantering would die down. It hasn't, though. I have some friends and family who are passionately on the left and other friends and family who are passionately on the right. Personally, I'm closer to the middle than I am to either extreme, but no matter what stance I take on any particular issue, there are people - people who are very important to me - who would be upset, offended, and probably even disappointed in me. Plus, I absolutely despise the politics and all the quarreling that goes along with it. So, I don't want to put any of that here on my blog or on my social media feeds.
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I don't want to write about teenage hormones and mood swings, sex education workshops for middle schoolers, conversations about Netflix series portraying teen suicide, how it feels when one of your kids doesn't share your faith, or how my "baby" will be heading to middle school this fall and I'm not sure either of us are ready for that. Well, actually, I DO want to write about those things, but I CAN'T write about those things - except in posts that will remain buried in my "drafts" folder, never seeing the light of day on my blog. My kids read my blog now. My kids' friends have read my blog in the past and might again at any time, seeing anything and everything I post about my daughters' lives. Nothing is more important than my relationship with my girls, especially right now when we are navigating the turbulent waters of adolescence. Maintaining mutual respect and trust is far more important airing my grievances here or any number of page views those posts might earn. 
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I don't want to write (again) about my body image issues, how many pounds and sizes I've gained in the past couple years, or how a lot of my clothes from last summer aren't fitting this spring. I don't want to tell you that, some mornings, I look in the mirror and vow to not put a single morsel of food in my mouth that day, but then fail miserably or that, somedays, I look in the mirror and just think, "#$@% it! I'm forty and life is too short to worry about calories and spend hours making myself miserable at the gym!" I don't want to admit that I am absolutely wrecked every time my nine year old says "I'm fat!" or when I hear her say one of the best things about finding a new sport she actually likes is that she's lost weight since she started participating. I don't want you to know what a pathetic hypocrite I am when I tell her, "You are NOT fat! You are just the way God created you to be and you are BEAUTIFUL!"  while I think to myself "What have I done to this sweet, innocent, beautiful child God entrusted me to care for?!?! Is it my fault she calls herself chubby?" That's some heavy dirty laundry that will have to be aired elsewhere, but not here.
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I don't want to write posts that are filled with judgement, crass comments, and profanity - even though it often seems that those are the posts that "sell." It's not who I am and I won't "fake it" to garner popularity or boost the potential acceptance of pieces with my name in the author line.
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I don't want to write anymore about how I'm struggling to write these days. I already wrote about that here and here. Actually, I feel like I've written about it a lot more than that, but those were the only posts I could find. Maybe that just means it's been on my mind a lot. I love to write and blog, but, with limited time and all these blogging boundaries surrounding stuff I don't want to/can't write about, there's not a whole lot left it seems. 
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Usually, I don't want to write about All The Things I'm Not, but I did last month. I thought nobody would want to read it because it sounded whiny, but it has been one of the most shared posts I've ever had with twice as many page views in a under a month than anything else I've ever written. Maybe, sometimes, the things that are hardest to write are the things that strike the loudest chord because they are things that everyone struggles with but no one wants to say "out loud." 
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This post in which I wrote about all the things I don't want to write about without really writing too much about all those things, is part of Finish the Sentence Friday hosted by Kristi at Finding Ninee. Thanks to her for the challenging, but fun prompt "I don't want to write about . . . "


Monday, May 8, 2017

All The Names I've Been Called . . .

They call me "mom."  It used to be "mommy," but they are too grown up for that now - mostly. These three girls who grew inside me are now growing into young women faster than I can wrap my head around it. These three beautiful, wonderfully unique individuals who frustrate me and amaze me all in one breath. They call me "mom" and it's the best name I've ever had.

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They call me "Ms. Weesa," their preschool version of my actual name. Like my own children, they grow too fast. They bring sunshine to my week with smiles and high fives, sometimes even little baby cuddles in the nursery on Sundays. They remind me of innocence and unencumbered joy. 

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They call me daughter. The two who raised me and the two who raised my husband. They embrace me despite my flaws. They come to my rescue, impart advice, and worry when they shouldn't - because they're parents and that's what they do. It's what I do, too, because I have learned from them and they have been the best teachers a girl could ask for.

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They call me friend. Women and men who would drop everything to help me and who know I would do the same. People who have laughed with me; cried with me; shared joys and fears.

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He calls me wife. He also calls me "girlfriend" and "beautiful." He doesn't overlook my flaws - he loves them because they are part of me.  He has been my rock for 20 years now and, I sure hope we have many more to share together.

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Of all the names I've ever been called, these are my favorites.
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My actual name, Lisa, is derived from the name Elizabeth which means "promise of God"  or "God is my oath." According to the Social Security Administration (and names.org), there were almost one million babies born in the United States between 1880-2015 who were given the name of "Lisa." The name was most popular in 1965, a year when over 60,000 babies in the US were given the name. According to my parents, it was just a name they liked, but it didn't have any other specific reason for choosing it. 

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I am also called sister, aunt, cousin, niece, co-worker, teacher, boss, blogger/writer, and volunteer. I wear many hats, it seems, when I put them in a list. I wear all my names proudly. Whether proper names or titles, they came from somewhere or were given to me by someone significant. When you put them all together, they describe the person that I am. They provide a glimpse of the people who love me and the people who mean the most to me.

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This post was inspired by Finish the Sentence Friday which is hosted by Kristi at Finding Ninee. The sentence was "They call me . . . " I didn't get this written in time to actually link upon Friday, but I loved the prompt, so I wrote it anyway!


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