Embers

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.

I start...

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?