Writer's Block cont'd

So to continue on my claim of having writer's block...

After I had Dylan I went through the usual emotional roller coaster that having a new baby, no sleep, and imbalanced hormones inevitably induce.  I had the same with Emma, with her it was more about being overwhelmed and coming to terms with my life never being the same again.  But with Dylan, I was filled with so much guilt.  Guilt I had changed my daughter's life forever, she was no longer the sole center of our universe.  Guilt that she was so bored that summer and I had very little time, energy, and much less patience to find things for her to do.  Guilt for that same lack of time, energy, and patience to give this new baby as much attention as we had with Emma.  But mostly I had guilt for feeling guilty.  How dare I?  I had no right to feel such emotions.

There are mothers out there who were enduring far worse situations than me.  The mama with an autistic child.  The mama whose baby is sick with a horrible disease.  The mama who looses her baby at just 17 months.  The mama who looses her baby before it's even born.  The mama (and military wife) who found out she was pregnant with baby #3 just mere weeks before her husband deployed.  The mama who adopts foster children.  The heartbreaking stories of the lives these children came from and the physical and emotional scars they carried that had to be dealt with.

These are mamas who had every right to spew blog post after blog post of the very real struggles they were enduring.  And here I was writing about my toddler having a temper tantrum after not getting what she wanted at the Dollar Store.  Boohoo, poor me and my horrible struggles.

So I was ready to ditch it all.  Ditch the blog, delete the whole thing. Remove my ramblings from all the white noise out in internet land...



I often think of that scene in Forest Gump.  When Lt. Dan was fearless in that horrible storm at sea, challenging God to hit'em with all he's got.  And then the storm passes and Lt. Dan seems resolved and reconciled.  Tom Hanks delivers my favorite line, "I guess he made his peace with God."

At the end of the day, are we not all just trying to make our peace?  Life throws us curve balls and hard balls and, hell, beams us right the jaw.  We struggle and we fight and we give it all we got.  And eventually, when all is said and done, we make our peace with it.

So what was my grand epiphany that returned me to my glorious blogging?  I had this thought:  struggles cannot be quantified.  Struggles are hard, and are real, and are unique.  While there are such brave souls out there who've been dealt some pretty tough hands, each of us have our own struggles.  And we should not be ashamed of them or feel they are not worthy.  They are there, nevertheless.  They will beat and break us until we surrender.  Until we pick up our cross and brave on.  Until we make our peace with God.

I went back and reread the infamous Dollar Store tantrum post.  I had remembered it as only being a pity party over some trivial matter.  But then I reread the ending.  Where I brought it back around and spoke of lessons learned.  And I remembered while I enjoyed blogging.  Writing of things I realized and sharing them so maybe someone could relate, heck, maybe even find some peace over a current struggle of their own.

And so I am back.  I offer up no grand scheme here.  It is what it is.  Take it or leave it.  I doubt this blog with travel very far, but I put it out there nonetheless.  It's therapeutic for me and maybe it's helpful for you.

And so, dear friends, that is the Simple Reflection that has taken me 18 months to construct.  It is my sincere hope that the next one will not take so long.