I've got a morning routine.
I get up at 4:30am...go to the gym...run between 4-5 miles...do some core work...stretch and drive home.
Pour a steaming cup of coffee...fire up my computer and I write.
A blog post.
Usually the posts are not lengthy...often, they're top of mind...and typically, they're uncensored, unfiltered, irreverent windows into me.
So, why do I share it with you and why would you want to take your time reading about me?
I've been wrestling with this concept. The idea that anyone should really care about my life seems self absorbed and ego centered. And why is it that I post links to it on facebook where hundreds of additional "friends" garner access to it?
Have we become a culture consumed with celebrating over sharing and the use of the words vagina and douche canoe? Is it pathetic that I share my inner most thoughts on marital sex, child rearing, and life in the eyes of a thirty something mama?
Or is it acceptable because some of you can relate? Some of you've been there. You know exactly what I'm talking about.
September will mark one year that I've been crafting this blog medium. And the truth is...I love it. I love connecting with you. I love nurturing relationships with people that I haven't seen in over a decade and yet, we find ourselves in similar life stations.
I believe that we dedicate time out of our days to read columns, essays, short stories because we fall in love with the writer and we know their back story. We grow to care about them and their life. And, we want to escape from the daily ins and outs of our own routines.
Thanks for reading my stories and sharing your own. It makes the world feel more real and the hard stuff not so unbearable.