The concept of being in the story as opposed to owning is a tough one to navigate.
Where is the line between owning the story as yours to tell and merely being a supportive actor playing their role?
I think that perhaps this is the reason, or at least one of them, as to why I feel like I have lost my voice, so to speak, or rather why my blogging days have somewhat ceased to exist.
Don’t get me wrong, I still desperately want to be a writer. It’s just I no longer feel to be able to… you know… actually… write…
I don’t necessarily subscribe to the I can’t write about my children because they are people in their own right ideology but I have certainly become more conscious of how I portray people, not just my children, when I write. Who’s story am I actually telling?
There was a time where I never stopped to think about the fact that sometimes the story I wanted to tell was not my story to tell.
Sometimes you might think you are part of the story, and maybe you are…
…but that still doesn’t make it your story to tell.
It has been a hard lesson to learn and not one that was quick and easy to learn. Even now I’m not sure how to navigate it and decipher what should and shouldn’t be shared. After all, being on the internet in any shape or form is not without it’s own conflicts.
For those playing along at home who have been regular readers over my 10 plus years here, the young whipper snappers are now 21, 16 and 12.
Pretty crazy really when you think about it.
We are currently up in Perth for a few days enjoying the joy of having family visit.
Somehow I managed to convince the not so little girls to come for a midnight swim on the beach. Sure it was only for a total of 2 minutes but is was invigorating and fun. And cold. After all spring has only just sprung.
But I’m so so so glad we did it.
After all life is about memories…and what better memory is there than a midnight beach swim???