When I lived overseas, one of my personal maxims was “Expect the Unexpected.” But by now, my quiet routine in America doesn’t throw as many curves my way, and besides, shouldn’t my adventure-attracting magnetic fields be wearing down? I guess not. I relaxed my guard a couple weeks ago and something unexpected slipped in.
During graduation week, my busiest time at work all year, while knee deep in kitchen and roof repairs at home, I went to the doctor about nagging nosebleeds. I did not anticipate on-the-spot nose surgery to remove a small tumor. I also did not anticipate that my doctor, who offered to cut and cauterize, promising I’d be “good to go,” meant something entirely different by that term than I understood. (It turns out that his definition included going to work on pain meds with a milk-mustache-looking bandage and an inability to breathe.)
At the same time, I’ve been invited as a new member of a wonderful online group of women writers. Instead of invigorating me, I’ve found that the avalanche of advice and comments that these writers post, literally every few minutes, remind me of all the things I need to do that I’m not or at least I need to do better that I already do somewhat.
I’ve learned that I should post blogs that help you, the reader, and focus on you, not me. The one thing I do well is blog frequently and consistently. But because I’m not sure now if I’m writing what I should, lately I’ve slacked off on even that. I’m doing what comes naturally when I feel overwhelmed. Nothing.
If you’ve wondered why I’ve been more silent lately, this is why. This, plus the fact that I’ve recently proven that being able to breathe through my nose (bringing much-needed oxygen to my brain) is a helpful component in just about anything I attempt.
My introspective nature has pulled back to try to sniff it out. I need to dig through this information overload that is suffocating me and find my way. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to sniff at all.
Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:
A writer must be true to her voice. My style is not to list Five Ways to Prepare for the Unexpected or Three Tips for Blowing Off Unwanted Advice; but, rather, to tell a real-life story (with my life being the one I’m most familiar with) and trust that you have the intelligence to draw your own parallels.
That is what I do best. And until I’m convinced otherwise (and I’m open to convincing), that’s what I’ll continue doing.