I took a facebook break last week (let’s not talk about the times I reactivated). It was tough but I’m glad I did it. I also took a blogging break and I will be totally honest (because that is what I try to do here): I had a hard week.
Over the weekend, I was invited to consider what my actions really look like when it comes to some of the things I blog about (namely weight, working out, eating—the messy stuff). The invitation came along with the suggestion that sometimes, when I’m struggling, it would be nice if I could just take my own advice.
I didn’t take this lightly and I really thought about what I write on this blog and what I do in my day to day. I list authenticity as one of my values so to think that I am not living what I preach…ugh.
What I write about is what I struggle with. Normally what spurs me to post is something that challenged me and forced me to get real with something that’s not where I want it to be in my life. It’s the beginning of another change in the right direction. I am on a journey and this is all a process. My first blog was markedly different than this one and looking at it reminds me that I should be proud of the progress I’ve made, not ashamed of the struggles I might still have.
We live in a world where dieting and body shaming and disordered is the norm. Whether or not I embody body acceptance entirely in my day to day life, the conversations and the dialogue that I hope to contribute to with this blog are important. Not dancing around in my bikini blissfully or making a fat pants joke here or there doesn’t mean that I’m not qualified to talk about the changes I am making for myself or that I wish we could work on collectively.
I’d love for all women to love their bodies and to treat them in ways that demonstrate that they appreciate them. I’d love for myself to be able to do this every day of my life. But I have my days. And we’re not there as a culture. But in the meantime, the world needs more voices who are willing to say what they think, whether what they think is what the rest of their facebook feed is saying or not. And I need to think about how I want things to be different, whether or not they’re my reality (yet). Change isn’t easy and it doesn’t work like a light switch.
In the midst of all this, I seriously considered not blogging any more. Why do I blog? I asked myself. It’s mostly for selfish reasons: I can write about what I want to create or what I’m working on creating for myself, get feedback on it, get (positive) attention, etc. Maybe I also inspire some people along the way–I’ve had a fair share of people tell me that my blog has helped them on their own healthy, happy, whatever journey—and I get to feel all warm and fuzzy about that.
Then: What would it mean if I stopped blogging? Well, my blog is one way that I try to create something different—my vision of what healthy and happy looks like. If I were to decide that I am not qualified to write about this stuff or that I shouldn’t because I don’t have it all together, I’d be giving into the “not good enough” story I am (still) working on shifting. I’d be giving up on something that matters a lot to me. I’d be making it mean something pretty shitty, and I’m not prepared to do that.
A note on my bulletin board reminds me, “I take a stand for health.” This isn’t something I take lightly. I’m grateful for this whole shit fit (I’m dramatic—deal with it) for reinforcing what I stand for and why I stand for it. I’m also glad for the honest feedback that I might not be having the effect on people that I mean to or want to (as crappy as it feels) and the reminder to take my own (awesome) advice more often.
I’m going to end this in true Cheryl fashion with a quote…
Have you had a blogger identity crisis?
If someone asked you what you stand for, what would you say?