Like most young children I had loved to write. In Grade 3 I won a competition. Of all the things I’ve ever accomplished, maybe that’s the one I love the most. When I started this blog I did it to try to deal with my emotions. I wanted to do something different than getting hammered, doing stupid things, and looking for someone else to love me rather than love myself.
I knew I had some hilarious stories to tell. I sometimes can’t even believe the things I’ve done. The funny thing was though, I kept putting those stories off. I wondered if my kids read them what they might think. Some of the unwritten blogs had titles already picked out. One was, ‘My Ho Ho Christmas.’ You can imagine why I kept putting that one off. It will just remain a humorous memory.
My punctuation was awful. Most times I wouldn’t even proofread them. But, if I had done so, I wouldn’t have been able to pick out the mistakes. Commas, semicolons, present/past tense, capitalization, etc… There’s a lot to know, and subsequently I have a new respect for actual writers. It was obvious I was not one of them.
I received some great messages. A few people sent some kind, encouraging words. This meant a lot. I also had some pretty harsh criticism. Some mocked me. This meant nothing to me. I knew that I was genuine, if not always right. I never had aspirations of it being anything that mattered to anyone. I knew my shortcomings better than anyone. This is why after every one, I thanked whoever made it down to the bottom of my drivel. Drivel it was, if you do not know the meaning of that word, please add it to your vocabulary. It’s an awesome word and applies to almost everything we read and hear.
What became clear to me as I wrote was what is important to me. First and foremost, my 2 children. I wanted with all my heart to end this blog writing about them; I could write 1000 blogs about my two kids. I didn’t do that because I think their dad writing so publicly about them is not cool when you are a teenager. They are my entire world. I’m terrified of what life without them will look like. Writing forced me to acknowledge these fears. Writing helped me to look ahead and ask myself how I will fill this void. Obviously, I need a better plan than a low powered plane and a tall mountain. I’m actually really excited to see the adults they will become.
After my kids, writing helped me realize how much I cared about my family. Growing up with 7 siblings is pretty awesome. Remembering the 8th sibling (Sarah) was a wonderful blog to write.
Everyone should write. It’s very rewarding. The English language is rich, and learning how to put words together is not unlike playing and writing music. I’m a Gr.9 grad. That’s it. If I can drivel, anyone can.
Some housekeeping. I spent time in Stettler as a young kid. My Dad wanted me there so I went. This was an incredibly difficult time for me but it was in no way the fault of the kind family that opened up their home and took us in. Everyone has a tough childhood. It’s hard growing up. I heard a rumour that stemmed from this blog that things happened there that were abusive. This is patently false. I got disciplined like every other kid did from that era. I’m often amazed that they were willing to have us stay with them. I remember some good times there.
If I have offended or hurt anyone I sincerely apologize. If anyone wants to start a writing club, or just share writing, I’d like to read other peoples writing.
We’ve all heard enough about about me. It was what it was.
If you read this far, thank you.
Tris
Tristram's Blog 