Yes here I am again. I promised I'd update you on the new blog I was creating and I never did. I started a blog called Body By Emmy that is primarily devoted to my health and fitness goals. It's very specific so I wanted to separate it from the rest of what I was posting here in order not to bore everyone to tears. If you're interested in reading that one, you can join me there.
I'm back here because not everything I need to get out of my head fits that setting. But this post is sort of connected to that blog. When I started it, I dove into social media, branding, etc. Through all that everything I read talked about doing what you're passionate about. Obviously health and fitness are a huge passion of mine, and that's why I started that blog.
But some other things have happened or come to the surface recently that made me think about why I sort of gave up my true passion. One of my co-workers recently changed offices and when she did, she showed me the art that she creates. I was in awe of it as I am most art and told her how great I thought it was. She then asked me what my gift was. I told her my gift is being mediocre at a lot of things. She pressed further though and I told her that the only thing that I ever wanted to be was a writer. If I had other dreams as I child, I don't remember them. Technically that dream came true in a way, I am employed as a technical writer. The job doesn't allow for much creativity, but I really enjoy it. I like the people I work with, the environment, and while it can be boring, I like the writing.
But I can't say technical writing was my dream as a child. Poetry was probably my favorite. I wrote book after book of it, almost right up until I got married. Then I abruptly quit. My now ex-husband and marriage wasn't the reason I quit. Sadly, it was a college professor that put a halt to it. I'm not blaming her, what she said was true and harmless. But, sometimes certain words delivered by certain people just carry more weight. She was a published poet, and while I can't remember exactly what she said, I felt that everything I'd written was just trivial and meaningless.
More recently I was talking with someone about how much I share on Facebook. They commented that I share a lot more than they would. Again, I don't think it was meant to have the impact that it did, but coming from this person, it has made me aware of every thing I post now.
Those things and how they made me feel are by no means the fault of the person who said them. They had no way of knowing that I would take them so personally or attach such weight to them. I'm not one of those people who can let things slide. I wish I was, but most things stick with me for a while. Some never seem to leave.
All of that said, I can use those things as an excuse to never write again, or I can suck it up and pretend that they didn't bother me until they no longer do. Maybe my poetry is trivial. Maybe I do share more than I should. But it made me feel good when I did it...so I think I need to do more of that.