Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Cutting My Blogs Head Off.

Is there some kind of story in Greek mythology about cutting a monsters head off when it grows too big? I think there is. I've been thinking a lot lately about the nature of blogging and social media as it pertains to identity and mental health. I've been thinking a lot lately about a whole host of things that I cannot unthink. The elephant in the room is that I haven't been feeling so hot. Surprise!

Last year when my stepdad Jim was dying in his hospital bed, we all took turns to sit with him in his room. He did a lot of sleeping, mostly from the pain medication. Pancreatic cancer is extremely painful. One day, my mum and one of my sisters were sitting talking quietly in his room when Jim woke up with a start, looked at them, and simply said,

"When Eden is earning enough money from her blog ..... she can hire a cleaner."

Then he went straight back to sleep.


I've been blogging for almost six years. Back when I started, and even until a few years ago ... blogging was considered an almost niche, weird thing to do. These days, the entire world is online. Businesses, brands, friends, aunts, bosses, children ... there has been a definite explosion. Especially with the changing nature of media. Especially with smartphones in our pockets. Everything is online and everything is accessible.

Recently I've pulled back from it all. Regularly seeing two health professionals, limiting my time online, and deciding to leave blogger talent agency The Remarkables.

I've been cooking lots of meals, helping my kids with their homework, re-organising each room of the house while it gets painted, and writing.

I like writing.

My unofficial blog motto has always been "Never complain, never explain." But I feel like I owe a lot of you an explanation, one that I'm still trying to work out myself. Thank you so much for continuing to read here and share your thoughts and lives. I'm astounded to receive such love and emails. I'm so incredibly sorry I'm so behind in answering them. I'm behind in everything. Except cleaning my house. My house is really clean because I've really been taking the time to clean it properly. Jim was wrong. I can't afford a cleaner which suits me fine because world poverty. (If I had the money for a cleaner I'd hire a nanny anyway, because mothering takes up most all available resources and capacities I have.)

The past month has been beyond hard. Did you know trauma can be cumulative? It's maths. I always failed at maths. Fuck numbers. I prefer words.

The Street Talk section of this blog is the engine at the moment. I have been in no right mind to tell any more of my stories, so am depending on other people to tell me theirs. We all have them. I grew up in my own head, all by myself. Sometimes I'm still there.

I had to get the old Eden wearing black off the Edenland blog header and put the new Eden up there, eating a banana in public. All of these virtual versions of ourselves. (I don't even eat bananas in public irl because it looks like I'm giving a blow job.) This is the part where I usually get all tough and punch the world and quote Eminem, but no. I've pulled back, let go of almost everything. I love blogging but had to set it free for a while and see which parts of it come back. Gene Wilder says we have to go forward to go back. Before I write any other post I had to write this one. I don't know why. Usually I just go on instinct.

Are you still there?

I'm here. I'm cleaning the house that I live in. And all of the houses that live in me.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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