I told J last night I was closing down this space. I told him it had run its course and that I wasn’t going to write here anymore. “I don’t have time,” I told him, “and I want to use my mother tongue when writing. If I don’t write very much, I think I should at least write in Danish”. And that is the truth. I don’t have much time and I am feeling more and more guilty that when I finally do write, I write in a language that isn’t mine and never will be.
I started my first blog in the spring of 2007. It lasted a little over six months going out with a bang in November as I, stupidly, attempted to write every day. Then a couple of months after this I felt an urge to write again. The number of blogs I read regularly increased and so did my want to, once again, have a blog of my own. A great 2008 was born in January 2008. I wanted to be pregnant and wasn’t, and the blog was a place to write about it since I wasn’t sharing all my crying over the missing second lines with anybody but J. But while I created a space of my own, I always hesitated before writing. I didn’t write about my wedding until it had taken place, and when I did become pregnant I didn’t share it until after the first three months because I was scared shitless that sharing it would be the same as celebrating too early.
From January until June of 2009 I hardly remember what I wrote about. I didn’t document my pregnancy as I had thought I would. I don’t have weekly photos of my belly and even if I faithfully read about what fruit my baby was the same size as every week, I didn’t write it here. I don’t know why. I guess I didn’t feel like it. When I finally did post a photo of my belly my main reason for doing it was for J, who was in China that week, to see that we, the belly and I, were doing well at home.
Wednesday the 10th of June changed our lives forever. Out came our little girl and with her came sleep deprivation, happiness and feelings I didn’t know existed. But also lack of time to write.
It has been almost a year since that day. Our daughter walks and talks like there is no tomorrow. I am back at work thankful that I got the chance to spent almost a year with her, but also thankful I have now returned to the world of colleagues, deadlines and “use what you learned at university”.
I closed my eyes last night thinking “it has come to an end”. And I opened them this morning thinking “maybe not”. I rode my bike to work thinking “maybe I should give it a second chance”. And so here I am, writing, wondering what to do with this little place of mine.
I am giving this space a second chance, because I can’t close it down. But I am still thinking about how to use it. I can’t give more of my life. I don’t mind giving what I give now, but I can’t give more. I wish I could, I really do. I look at how easily (or so it seems) people post things that are way more personal than anything I have ever written and how they share the cutest photos of their kids and spouses and I really wish that I could be part of that community, but I can’t. I just don’t have it in me.
What I am thinking is that this space will have to turn into something else. I hope that I can continue to occasionally write about life, about my daughter and my husband, about love and wanting things. But I am thinking that I need some sort of other purpose with this space.
I loved having a list of things to do in 2008. I felt great whenever I crossed something off of it and it gave me things to strive for. I tried to do something similar back when I introduced “Project 2010”, but that project was doomed from the very beginning.
What I didn’t tell you was that shortly after I had posted about it, J and I went grocery shopping on a Saturday morning and I asked him about it. He is, and always has been, my loyal reader and I wondered why he hadn’t said anything about my project, had he not read about it? It turned out he had read about it, but back in those days I was sick and tired of being at home with G, he was having long days at work, and we were arguing way more than usually leaving little time for conversations about my blog. “Oh yeah, I read it, sorry I didn’t mention it,” he said. “So what do you think?” I asked. I had put “follow a running program” on top of my list and I was eager to give it a try, and I knew he would see it right away. “It is just that you have tried so many times before,” he said. And then the project died. “What about the other things on the list?” I asked him. “I am sorry,” he said, “but I didn’t really give it that close a look. I am really sorry. I will look at it. I am sorry, really sorry.” But the project had already died. Even though he went back and read the list of things I wanted to do and left the sweetest comment in a language most people don’t understand, the project had died.
I want a project or a list of things I want to do, and maybe I will make one. I don’t know yet. As I rode my bike to work I thought about what I could fill this space with and things similar to those I originally had on my list kept popping up.
I want to make things for myself, for my daughter. I want DIY projects. I want to start running. I want to cross the Atlantic with my daughter before she turns two. I want to take or have taken a family portrait. I want, I want, I want. I want a list of things to do before I go. I want to show J my mother tongue writing – and to do more of it. I want to grow my own basil. I want to buy a house. I want another baby. I want. I want. I want. I want to do good at my job. I want to take more photos – and to get better at it. I want to make just one drawing I will want to keep and will be proud of like the one I drew of my foot back in 1993 which still has me thinking “damn, I can draw”. I want to be proud of myself just once in a way that has me screaming “I am f****** good at [whatever]”. (Just once.) I want to be a better friend, a better wife, a better mother. I want. I want. I want. I want to buy expensive lingerie. I want to eat at Noma. I want a pair of Marc Jacobs shoes. I want to bake a hundred cakes and be better at decorating them. I want to read more books. I want to write one. I want. I want. I want. I want to twirl with my daughter, I want us to laugh when we fart. I want to travel with my family, to travel alone. I want my parents to be proud of me and have them thinking “she made it”. I want to write about the best books I have ever read and how they changed my life – or didn’t. I want to throw a party for all our friends with the best food and the best playlist EVER. I want to teach my daughter that thunder is an opportunity to curl up close to each other in bed and feel safe together. I want to start saving for the watch of my dreams. I want. I want. I want.
I want this space to document it all.
(in case I didn’t make myself clear: I am staying for the time being. I have no clue how or how often yet, but if you feel like it then stick around and see what happens. Maybe it’s good.)
(Maybe it’s not.)