To hold or to let go?

Last fall when the season of change was settling itself upon me I purchased the domain name I didn’t known exactly what I would do with it, only that I was hoping it would be an impetus for me to both write and focus more intentionally and publicly on my quest to be a more mindful person. The power of accountability is undeniable. I mean, come on, if I’m writing on a website I paid way too much for with the beautifully alliterated title Mindful Mama, I surely would be less likely to scream at my kids, shame them into behavior or fight dirty with my husband. Right?

I wrote the first handful of blogs without ever posting them. Or rather, I’d post them and then take them down minutes later, my heart racing and my pits sweating. Why in the world would I share I had pulled my kid’s crazy hair and the aftermath of growth, honesty and conversation that ensued?

Why do I feel the urge to share my blunders and recoveries?

Is it the deeply engrained Catholic construct of confession and penance?

Is it because I want to start a conversation about how fucking hard it is to be a mindful person?

Is it because I’m looking for validation and “it’s okay’s” from friends on the Facebook?

Is it because I want to both find my voice AND to be heard?

Is it because I want other humans who mess up all the time to know they are not alone and we can support each other?

It’s probably a mixture of all this, but I do know for certain that

I feel more vibrant when I’m writing and more connected when I know that what I’m writing is being read.

It took doing Whole 30 to give me the guts to begin sharing what I write because it gave me a more concrete purpose to share. There was a goal, and there was an end date. For a month or so I shared the trials and tribulations and the insights and celebrations associated with experimenting with an extremely popular fad diet. It worked. I felt supported and encouraged by all the peeps who read, or could potentially read, my blog. I kept up with the writing in the spring, but the concept of purpose evaded me for most of the summer. Without purpose, I stumbled foggily from one sports practice to the next, carrying my journal, but leaving most of its pages blank.

A crossroads is upon me. I’ve had a couple offers to sell the domain name. Now I need to decide how important the label is for me. I haven’t been blogging lately. Do I ramp up my writing again or turn in the reins? Have I become mindful enough to let the name go? Am I ever going to do anything more with the site than just blog? Could the other guys put it to better use? If I started a new blog without the word “mindful” in it, perhaps I’d be more likely to write about a greater variety of topics. Perhaps when I’m in the middle of a summer long shit storm of anxiety and depression, I won’t hesitate to write and post because I won’t feel like I’m not living up to my “name”. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t make a difference anyhow. The message below came across my Instagram feed yesterday and hit home like a punch in the gut.

“If you show someone something you’ve written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, “when you’re ready’.” – David Mitchell

The aimless summer is turning into a more purposeful fall, and I’m finally feeling strong and grounded enough to try my hand at blogging again, despite the suicidal imagery that sharing can conjure. I’m thinking maybe I can explore publicly the ideas that are most clouding my open skies. Maybe I can investigate out-loud topics like performance and perfectionism, intuition and dissociation, judgment and compassion.

We shall see, we shall see, but for now, thank you friend for reading.

Most humbly,

mm (at this moment in time)




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