I prepared the household for my absence with printed-out daily routines, and a menu plan with meal options and snack suggestions. I stocked the kitchen with food, a few more processed and convenient this week, to make it easier for everyone.
I stayed up late the night before to finish packing, which meant that Wednesday morning was quiet and peaceful and we were able to go about our routine as normal until about 8:30am when the four of us drove together to the airport. I tried to be upbeat, and to not show that my catastrophic thinking was already giving me doubts about leaving them. I kissed the boys on their sweet little cheeks, and nuzzled their noses for a few extra seconds, turning before my eyes gave me away. A hug for Andy and I was off.
I waited in the terminal thinking of the boys embarking on their first solo flight as a threesome. I knew they'd be fine, hanging on tight to each other, and that it would be good for them.
All morning I felt calm and reflective. This was my first trip alone since becoming pregnant with Roscoe in 2008, and my first time leaving the boys since they were born. On the brink in other ways too, I had been hugely anticipating Blogher '12 for the better part of the year, curious about how my writing might be affected by what I would encounter and learn, and in what direction my blog might be pulled as a result. I was excited to finally meet in person the online community that I've been contributing to for the last four years, thrilled to be traveling to an unfamiliar city, and craving inspiration.
I arrived home late last night, my body and my brain exhausted.
Time spent in the big apple was liberating for me. Introverted, public speaking often leaves me frozen with anxiety. In a sea of thousands of women, I felt warmth, welcomed, right at home, still, and thoughtful, and eager to adopt the wisdom of women who have come before me in this journey of sharing. I felt confident, even though I occupy such a tiny footprint in the sand. I belonged there too.
It struck me that, in stark contrast to real life, there were no mommy wars, or politicking, no competition, or judgement, or separation. It was a collision of women from across the world with stories to tell. Five thousand powerful women with influential platforms, in our own right, connected by our truths and bound by our words. Writers at heart, honing our craft, connecting our voices and knowing that we are not alone.
Beyond networking and social marketing, the technical aspects of monetization and SEO, even the opportunity to hear from Martha stewart and Katie Couric, I came to BlogHer for clarity about the future of Marbles Rolling in content and style.
What I took home was this: The clearest path to finding my voice as a writer is to have the courage to be vulnerable in my writing and to take greater risks in my storytelling. It seems obvious now, the necessity to tell and retell our stories in order to find what is true and to own it without hesitation, or fear of how that truth may affect others.
I heard from many women over the weekend and their awareness resonated deeply:
"The way we spend our day is the way we spend our lives."
"Writing [my blog] is a map back to myself."
"The more I write, the clearer I become in my outline of who I am."
A need for acceptance. A need to be heard. A need to hear myself.
I am very seriously considering taking this blog down to start fresh in a new space with a nom de plume. I am cautious about my decision either way, and so I may just sit on it for a while. But I have stories and feelings and a perspective on events in my life and of this world, that I haven't felt comfortable expressing here. I've always been honest here, but my words are tempered.
I think it may be time to push the boundaries and confront what currently constrains my growth as a writer, as a mother, and as a woman with a voice carrying stories that need to be told.
For my own good.
I turn 30 in nine days. I recently quit my job. I'm in transition and this blog may have to go with me.
