I opened my WordPress tab this morning, like I do most days.  Colorful photos caught my eye, along with headings for blogs written by friends I have come to know through their artistic creations.

Most days I go straight to my writing tasks, but today I paused to admire the handiwork … and I started scrolling.

I found poetry blogs, and how-to blogs, and inspirational blogs. I found blogs about the Theology of Carrots ( “We hide our best underground”), Carl Jung’s view of the human psyche (“Very often do we see our own faults in others”), and Peaceful Shit (“Just when I thought things were getting good; Good shit never lasts long.”).

This last one made me chuckle, mostly because the author speaks the truth; “good shit never lasts long.”

But if we didn’t have bad shit, we wouldn’t appreciate the good shit. And, as everyone knows, shit happens. And the world goes round and round …..

And I’m scrolling ….

“Validation is for Parking.” This is an interesting insight.

“Frankly, the validity others provide for us has nothing to do with us. It has all to do with how THEY see themselves and their world.”

I agree with the author. We all have our realities, our own perceptions, about life and the world, which we created based on who we are, what we believe, and our experiences up to this point. No one seems the world in exactly the same way.

The author goes on to say that we need to validate ourselves instead of looking for others to do it for us.

“… we need to learn how to embrace ourselves, learn how to live our lives without asking for another’s permission or acceptance. It is our life. Our journey. ”

And I’m scrolling ….

I see my Blog #2, In My Father’s Footsteps, Chapters 31 and 32, with the familiar family photos I use to decorate my father’s stories. I impulsively click on Chapter 32, though the words are firmly planted in my mind. My motives are purely honorable; research, I tell myself. And Validation.

“My dad was my hero. I’m sure most little girls see their fathers that way. And though my relationship with my dad hasn’t always been the best, he was there when I needed him most, and for that, I am very grateful.”

A few years ago, I found a box filled with typed pages, memories about his life, which he transformed into fun and entertaining stories about his childhood, his time in the Navy, being the oldest boy in a Catholic family, and what he thought about life in general.

I changed it up a bit in Chapter 31, letting my mother take the reins to tell the story of how she and my dad met.  (Despite everything that was against them, they managed to hang on to each other for nearly 50  years.)

They were married Oct. 24, 1959. They caused quite a scandal back then. They had both been married before and divorce wasn’t as accepted as it is today. (And besides, my father was Catholic; definitely a no-no for that denomination). Mom had three kids from her previous marriage. Dad had two, but only Tim came to live with them. And after they were married, they had five more.

If that wasn’t enough, they survived a horrific experience when Dad nearly died in a car accident in 1967. And once the older kids became teenagers, they had to deal with drugs, unplanned pregnancies, and the draft (It was the ’60s, after all).

A few years later, they had to go through it all again with the second batch of kids. By this time, they were either too tired to care, or figured that life was too short to get too stressed about it and learned to relax a little.

“’Story of our lives…’ she tells me.  And she is not wrong.”

And I’m scrolling ….








Blogging by accident

Happy 6th Anniversary to me!

Happy 6th Anniversary to me!

I was informed by WordPress yesterday that I have reached a milestone in my blogging history. I signed up for WordPress 6 years ago. But looking back, I didn’t write my first blog until almost a year later.

My memory is kind of foggy,  but I remember it’s because I didn’t know what to write. I looked at other blogs to get an idea, but my life, at that point, isn’t what I would consider exciting.

I started attending classes at Mount Mercy and my professor told us that blogging would be a requirement in one of his classes. He suggested we acquaint ourselves with popular blogging sites.

My first blog post  was a letter I wrote to my younger self. I got the idea from a book that was given to me. It was compiled of letters that women celebrities wrote to their younger selves.

Though I only wrote the one blog a week that was required by my professor, I continued to write even after the class ended because of something he said:

“Write every day, even if it’s just a few paragraphs. You can’t help but become a better writer.”

He was right. The more I wrote, the more comfortable I became and the easier it was. And somewhere in the middle of it all, writing became a part of me.

When I want to unwind from a busy day, I write. When I have a few minutes while waiting for the doctor, I write. I even “itch” to write, which could be considered either an obsession or a passion, depending on how you look at it.

I also read as much as I can. I believe it also makes me a better writer. I am inspired by my fellow bloggers, and their stories help me look at life from different perspectives.

It might have taken a little while for me to get used to the idea of blogging, but the desire to write was no accident. It’s something that has been inside of me all my life. And when I die, I will most likely be at my computer, typing out my last words.