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Now that I think about it, I realize one of the things that got to me most, and subsequently affected my posting, was my response to the reaction. That is, I took a chip when I made myself care about how many likes and responses I would get to a post.

Obviously I can care about the life of the blog. I can care about critical reception. However, to me, the practice of feeling incensed because not enough people saw and appreciated my post made the actual act of writing consistently an uphill battle. I was setting goal posts for expectations and moving them to suit my needs, but also moving them to keep myself unhappy.

That’s not to say I never got any likes. It’s to say I starting doing a daily diary because I was inspired and already setting expectations up. And then when those expectations weren’t met I would chastise myself for missing the mark. Only the mark was where I put it, and no matter how hard I asked I wouldn’t move it back.

Now when I do my daily writing I am eager to remind myself to write. I am, in fact, always eager to write more. It has been a challenge keeping this under 250 words because when I find the thought I want to, have to keep exploring it. There’s that urge to keep unpacking it and, in the end, find more wonder underneath.

Now I write to write. Of course I’m happy when strangers read my pieces. Of course I’m happy when they like it and share it with others. Yet none of that mattered a year ago when I was focused on it, and none of it matters now. Hopefully one day Amelia finds these posts, reads them in my voice, and finds the humanity we share.

Love you mom, dad, sis, Amelia, Marie, kitty


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