I think I have written this post at least a hundred times in my head.
I would have this witty, bold opening statement. Clever quips and meaningful stories that offer a steadfast moral.
and then stop. Unable to finish because I never really knew how to start.
I came here to this little space in the cyber world because I had something to say. Something to share. Knowledge that I had received that I so desperately looked for and couldn't find when I was first starting out. I wanted to be the sounding board for all those coming along on their own journeys after me that were looking for that same information. I would be their lifeline. I would be their reference to the map of their journey.
It never happened. Well perhaps it did, but not in the way I thought it would.
I thought it would be easy, I write these posts that talked about what I had experienced or products I really liked and I would get followers and comments and ambassadorships like I saw all these other bloggers I followed getting. My stuff was as funny as theirs. My self-deprecating humor would be amusing to people. I would have people visiting and recommending my page to other forums and I would have this mass amount of people tuning into my blog to see what the hell I was up to.
Reality however, is not as easy.
I was killing myself each day to try and get a post up. It wasn't fun anymore, it was a chore. It also didn't matter how much I touted a brand or sang it's praises, I would get rejected for ambassadorships left and right, instead watching the other bloggers or social media main stays I followed getting all the things I worked hard for.
I became disenchanted with my blog. My spot, the place I could go to and share me to the world, became toxic for me. I didn't want to touch it. I resented it and all that it represented. My failures. Failure to get where I wanted to go, failure to get what I wanted and failure to be chosen as a trusted representative. It symbolized how incapable I was of attaining my goals...and it hurt. It seared me every time I touched it and I had to let it go for a while. I had to walk away knowing that I may never go back to it. It got to that point a few times, where I was going to erase all content and act like this place never existed. That all I had experienced and endured never happened and I would simply disappear.
During this hiatus I found that the fire I had for running burning out into embers as well. How could something I be so passionate about just a couple of months prior be something that causes me so much doubt and cynicism? Simple really, these journeys are tied to one another. I started one because of the other and when the love for one dwindled, so did the need for the other.
I look at my old posts and marvel at my enthusiasm. I drink in the excitement that I would convey in some posts. I sit here and wonder if I will have that same love and hunger like I used to have. Probably not to the degree in which I had before, but I think I can get back to where I was enjoying talking about running and racing again. At least I hope I can.
I'm tired of being Debbie Downer, I don't like it anymore than you do, but this is also a very big part of who I am right now and to not share this would be a betrayal. Because if I can't be myself here, then what the hell am I doing this for?