I started this blog back in 2007, because I discovered that if I didn’t connect with adults in a meaningful fashion, and really quickly, I was going to go insane. My daughter was almost a year old and still not sleeping through the night, or napping during the day. My physical and mental health were at an all time low and I was isolated geographically.
My blog became my platform. A place for me to share what I wanted to share, to rail against the state of motherhood as I saw it, and to remember to laugh. I connected and wrote, and loved and lived and grew as a blogger.
While this was going on, the Australian blogosphere was a tiny place, filled with mostly photographers and business bloggers. Personal blogging hadn’t quite exploded onto the scene and there weren’t a huge amount of mummybloggers.
Because at that stage in my life, I was merely a vessel for my screamy baby to cling to, I gravitated towards the US Mommybloggers, reading and devouring their stories of personal triumph and failure. It was the failures that gave me more hope, because these women were doing what I had to do every day – picking themselves back up and continuing to live their life, regardless of what else was going on.
It was a time of change in the US Mommyblogosphere, as conferences popped up all over the country and mummyblogging exploded – while I watched from half a world away and tried to keep my sanity intact. This is not an easy feat when your toddler insists on trying to throw herself off all the furniture and you continue to fail to get pregnant.
Slowly, my blog grew and I developed a community here. A group of women, most of whom I am still proud to call my friends, they held me up and supported me through a scary pregnancy, a tough health diagnosis and subsequent diagnoses for my children.
Blogging in Australia has changed dramatically in the last five years. This is not a good change, or a bad change, it’s merely change and it is what it is. There are a large amount of mummybloggers in the sphere now and brands clamouring to work with them. There are comments and an “A List” and awards and conferences and through it all, I’ve continued to write here, telling my story, writing out the things that needed to get out of my head.
Traffic grows, pretty consistently, but comments here have dropped lately and I miss them. I miss the conversation, but I can’t be someone I am not and I cannot try any harder than I am.
People declare that we should care about our readers, more than we care about ourselves. I love everyone who reads here, but I’d be lying if I said that Sleepless Nights was anything other than what it is. It is therapy for me, it is how I prevent myself stabbing pens into my eyes.
The comment drop off, I can see why and how it’s happened – the explosion of Mommyblogging in the US caused a very similar effect and I saw established bloggers turning off their comments in an effort to make blogging “pure” to make it about the stories and the writing.
People don’t have enough time to read everywhere and there is a bit of market saturation. Plus you know, broken genetics don’t make for the most uplifting reading.
I must admit, it’s tempting sometimes, to close comments and pretend that I don’t care about the conversation. I’d be lying, but I hear tell that I am a decent enough actor when the circumstances call for it and I’m pretty sure I could pretend for a little while.
Maybe I just resent being judged on visible numbers, rather than on the quality of writing. Maybe I resent being told what I ought to be doing, and how I ought to care more about the perception of others, rather than my own fulfillment and sanity.
Or maybe I’ve annoyed too many people by pointing out the things no one wants to talk about and I’ve got no chance of ever being given a fair trial.
I’m not quite sure anymore.
What I do know is that after almost five years, I am comfortable in this space and I know that blogging is cyclical. What goes around, comes around, and eventually, everything turns full circle.
I will continue to write stories and poke at things that annoy me, because that’s what I do. I will break rules and publish on the weekend, and I will not track my readers to find out when you care more about reading and when you care less.
I will write.
Because, without this space, I would have gone mad a long time ago.
