This week I have realised, perhaps for the first time just what my blog means to me.
It was – it turns out – hacked last week.
Something that despite spending a week trying to figure what was happening, I only discovered yesterday.
A week of writing very little, made me realise that I don’t just write to make a difference to others.
It made me realise that I write because I need to.
It gives me an outlet. A way to be honest, not only with the with the world but with myself.
It made me realise that I blog first and foremost for me.
This week, I’ve missed that. I’ve missed the sense of freedom that writing gives me. The sense of purpose is gives me. But perhaps more than anything I’ve missed the sanity it gives me.
If I’m honest most of the time as I write I’m not sure I think about those of you sat reading my words.
Don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly flattered that so many of you take time out of your day to do so. It means a lot to me, especially when you are kind enough to leave or comment or send a message about something within our story that has resonated with you.
But I guess the truth is, if I thought about people reading my writing as I write, I would censor it more. It would be less authentic. Less of my own voice. And that isn’t want I want.
Not for me. And not for you as my readers.
I want to show you an authentic slice of our world. The ups and the downs. Reality. Our greatest hopes and our greatest fears.
I want to make you feel less alone when things get tough, in the way you make me feel less alone when things are difficult.
I am not sure how I would have got through this year without writing about it.
Somehow I’m sure I would have. But I’m equally sure that I would have been less whole.
So I guess the truth is. The real truth is that I blog because blogging makes me a better version of me.
A me that is more whole.
And that makes me a better mum.
And honestly I’m not sure I can think of a better reason than that.