The other day, one of my married Facebook friends shared a blog post from a woman who was talking about how disheartening it is to be asked, “Are you pregnant? When are you going to be?” all the time. Now, in reality, that blog post is not really applicable to me. There’s not really a reason for me to have read it, but I did. And now I can’t stop reading this woman’s blog. I’m on page 47, and I can’t stop. She’s a young, married LDS woman with two little kids and they live in New York City and they travel all over the world and she and her husband take stunning photographs of EVERYTHING. They literally have their life documented every single day, their children photographed THOUSANDS of times.
And I kind of want to cry. I shouldn’t have read her blog.
It’s weird to be a single blogger sometimes. It’s not weird because I feel unused to it, but weird because I’m in a different place than a lot of my friends. I can’t blame anyone for that, but I can certainly feel disheartened about it. They’re having babies and travelling and serving missions and being married. And me? I’m trying to get by, trying to make plans, trying to figure out how I’m going to reach a few dreams of mine that seem impossibly out of reach. A lot of bloggers start their blogs at their marriages. I started mine when I was still in high school trying to figure things out. Sometimes I feel a bit pathetic because of it.
Truth be told, I don’t blog about my life a whole lot because of blogs like the one I’ve been reading. They make me feel insignificant. But I love blogging. I do. I want to do more of it, in fact. If my voice changes, if the content and tone of this blog changes, it’s only because I’m trying to live more. Sure, I don’t have her life, I have mine, but it’s just as important, if entirely different.
It was a terrible thing to read that blog. But maybe I can learn how to make this life, my life better because of it.