I follow quite a few blogs. Some people write every day or nearly so and I think that's great. Most of us are really busy and we do good to write once a week. That's okay too because it makes us better writers. We write about what is really important. We take a little more care in blogging so that it can be interesting and entertaining.
Some bloggers disappear for months. This saddens and worries me. I miss you. I wonder what happened to you. I worry that life may have become too depressing or too hard. You probably think I don't want to hear about your struggle. You don't want to write about the latest round of meds, the newest batch of bills, another throw together meal, or yet another failed project.
But I do want to read these things because I live them just like you do. I get medicine that doesn't exactly work like it is supposed to, things cost me more than I budgeted, that throw together meal actually turned out fairly well so maybe I can cook that from now on, and we must fail before we can succeed.
I don't want to hear about just the good things. Life isn't always good. Often, life sucks dishwater.
Over the years, I've made a series of stupid mistakes. I've backed myself into corners then felt that I had no choice. I've rushed head first before I had all the information. I've decided I wanted the very thing I could not have. I've struggled to turn things around, fight against the path laid out for me, then after much screaming, fighting, and uphill struggle, end up in pretty much the same place had I left well enough alone. Life might have been easier had I gone with the flow, but I wouldn't have learned anything about myself.
And if I had only posted the good things, my readers wouldn't have understood me. You wouldn't know how I got to the good things and you wouldn't know why it was good to me. I can tell you I have a good man now, but understanding how good is lost when you missed the story about the control freak, or the dreamer who denied reality, or the guys who weren't bad but didn't connect with me. There's a boring story about coming home daily and doing nothing. It's not a compelling story like the one where you search for love, get discouraged, nearly give up, then settled down contented with a person who just wants to be with you. The good parts get lost if there is nothing to contrast them with.
Post your struggles and trails, the good, the bad, and the really ugly. We all have a story. We love story, it is how we connect and understand. When we have no story to read we become lost and confused. Worse, we may become bored. In boredom every mundane detail weighs too heavy on the soul until nothing has any meaning.