I’ve been trying to figure out why blogging is so much more stressful now than it was a few years ago. I actually came up with an answer that seems to make sense, at least to me.
As a start, I didn’t feel obligated to read everyone’s blogs. I read those that looked interesting and I didn’t sign up for so many. I have more than 70 blogs listed in which I am interested. I can’t read that much stuff in a day or even in a week. Especially if I also leave comments.
I don’t know when I started to feel obligated to read everyone’s blog, but at some point, it made me feel bad that people were reading me, but I wasn’t reading them. Then, new stuff came up and I subscribed, but a lot of the time it turned out that it was a one-time thing and I couldn’t establish a sustained interest in their material. Even those I read almost every day, there are just days when other stuff happens. Days when I want to read the news. Or a book. Or … gasp … do nothing in particular.
I don’t like unsubscribing to someone’s blog. It’s taken as a rebuke when often, it’s more a matter of finding time in my life to do something other than blogging. Between writing, photography, processing, putting posts together, and organizing … and having a life … it becomes more burdensome than joyful.
Not feeling I have the time to read books has made me crabby. I love reading — and listening. Not having time to get into a story bothers me. Reading has always been my escape.
Since Trump was elected, the world has been particularly treacherous. The news is terrifying.
I don’t know what I can do. I can’t solve any of the stuff that worries me. I feel helpless. Not a good feeling, especially because I need to feel a modicum of control over my life.
So for all of you who are my friends, I love you, but I can’t keep pushing myself to be everything to everyone. I wish I could, but I can’t. My writing suffers, I get too tired to take pictures and blogging stops being fun.
There are so many great blogs, I wish I could read them all.