On Lifestyle Blogging and Tuesdays

lifestyle tuesday

The new year began on a Tuesday. This is a particularly favorable occurrence for me; Tuesdays are my favorite day of the week. Months that begin on Tuesday are extra special, but years that begin on Tuesday, they are extra, extra special. What a great way to begin the new year! Do pardon my atrophic vocabulary, it’s been a while.

It could be my need to make connections, but I feel my recent resolve surrounding my blog and this Gregorian occurrence have some deep metaphysical meaning and will bring good fortune if I just believe…and, of course, write more during this profoundly auspicious year.

I have been “lifestyle blogging” for 6 years. I’ve been reviewed, revered and reviled. I’ve blogged guest posts, blogged about hosting guests, met families, and made you all part of mine. Along the way, I met some fairly awesome (and, a few assholey) people, keeping consistent with that whole family theme. What do you know, they like me, I thought. I have something to say, I pecked. And, then it happened, a major life occurrence. I found myself deep in the throes of what I had not yet known would be my lifestyle blogging fear. It fell apart, and I was existing–albeit barely, and that my friends, is a far cry from livin’ or stylin’.  What do I do now?

Broken heart, maimed ego– I tried a few times to dust myself off and type again, but nothing. Divorce is a personal tragedy of epic proportion–but these days, it seemed hardly blog-worthy. We aren’t celebrities outside of our small collective. There were no big bucks (read: NO bucks) involved and well, even that little thing about the other woman was unappealing, literally and figuratively. Sure, the process of rebuilding was an arduous one, but it had been done, sadly, by so very many before me. And, I wasn’t about to go all Suze Orman on how to protect your assets, or some other weird cult of domesticity-like tear on how to feed a family of three for eternity on one cube of tofu! Not my style.

Then, there was the return of my bout with depression. A depressed writer? Yeah, now that’s original! Not. Nor did I have it in me to get out of bed, much less the wherewithal to find it, and write creatively about it–y’know, the bed; beginning and end of my near year-long existence. I just saw no way to return to that which had been such an important part of me, and yet it felt so wrong to stay away.

Shortly after my marriage to Michael in September of 2012, I began a writing project chronicling the triumphs and travails of our first year of marriage. A guidebook, for the rest of us… kinda–I maintain it privately. The plan was to blog the book, I scrapped that plan before the first post ever went live. Before that project, I entertained but almost immediately opted against blogging our history, courtship, wedding plans, and the wedding itself, in consideration of my family’s privacy and sensitivity. Although, in the spirit of full disclosure, at the time I felt I, too, lacked the requisite bravery, diplomacy and, tact to handle the amount of criticism my choices could incite having just publicly failed at this marriage thing. (Secretly, I still yearn to write a post about our intimate under 5K Las Vegas nuptials here.)

My absence from the blogosphere has not been pleasant. Writing without an audience is cathartic, but it lacks the level of fulfillment that I derived from sharing my experiences, however lackluster. (I suppose that’s where creative wordsmithing makes all the difference.) Plus, sometimes I feel like my head is going to explode if I don’t express myself without interruption or the need to see, read, acknowledge and adhere to the social cues of humans.

So, there I sat in the glow of Tuesday’s setting desert sun. There, at the man’s side of the bed with Cosmo cat on my lap and a decision heavy on my mind. Here I am, back, by the grace of a new year that began on my favorite day of the week, and whatever real or imagined metaphysical significance there be attached to this Gregorian occurrence. Let there be words…again.


Peace and my first 700+ words of the new year


  1. Welcome back. xoxo

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