Sometimes, I write from the heart. I am not saying it doesn't need editing or polishing, but it just... flows. I miss that. It was actually easier to write like that about infertility. I don't feel that way very often.
Sometimes I have thoughts, but it's stuck between my head and my fingers. When I write, excessive amounts of detail come through to the point it sounds like a play by play my life. I don't think that's good reading. Quite often I can trim these posts down to something manageable, removing sections, summarizing others.
Sometimes I just start again.
Guess which day today is?
I have thoughts, big thoughts, swirling thoughts. We started our 27 hours of parenting training required to adopt in Ontario. Half of it was last weekend, we get this weekend off and then we wrap up June 7-8. I can't seem to stop talking about what I've learned, what I see in other peoples relationships, what I see in myself.
But it's not coming out right. And even when I trim my novel of a post down, the focus of the story isn't there. Possibly because the class is only half way done.
It's all straggly little trees of facts, without the forest of a story.
That's frustrating because this is exactly the kind of place I want to sort these swirling thoughts out. I learn about my own thoughts while writing for my blog by looking at all those details and trees and try to find the theme, the basis of what I am thinking. What the forest is.
So, part of this forest includes:
- We're on the right track.
- We have good instincts.
- All of my reading, thinking and observing has paid off.
- Dealing with the losses as they came was a good thing, I am ready for this.
Hopefully I can connect a few more dots and speak about my experiences without sounding like a lecture on attachment and parenting like I spewed all over my mom and my brother and his fiance and my coworker and....