Metamorphosis

There is no question in my mind that blogging changed my life.

I'll let you ponder that for a moment while I share with you what made me turn to the blogosphere in the first place.

I've written before about what my life was like just prior to and following The Poo's birth.

My father died less than four months before she was born, and my family pretty much fell apart.

We didn't band together in the time of crisis - no, that would have been too simple for such an interesting bunch of people. Instead, we were like a house with a rotten foundation.

My dad was the center of gravity for us, and without him, the center wouldn't hold. I can't share the specifics, but in a lot of ways I also lost my mom the day my father left this earth.

That grief settled in and came out in so many unattractive ways - anger, depression, helplessness - I was completely without direction.

I left my job to stay home with the baby and in March 2005 my little sister started encouraging me to write again. I pushed the suggestion aside.

Too many problems, too much responsibility, too little time or talent. That ship sailed away many moons ago, I told her. It was too late for me.

Still, little by little she introduced me to this weird underground world of blogs. So intimate! So interesting!

So very seductive.

Soon I was signing up for a Blogger account, and Chicken and Cheese was born. My first few posts were terrible. Really, really terrible.

I once kept a journal for no less than 13 years, and I spent every day of my college career writing. As a working journalist, I filed stories every day, sometimes writing 15 column inches in as many minutes. Looking back, my confidence was breathtaking. I was so sure of myself then, my fingers nimble on the keyboard.

But in March 2005, the words came slow and rusty. My diction was destroyed, my imagination a drought. But I kept at it.

And I became a reader as much as a writer. Motherhood Uncensored. Mom-101. Her Bad Mother. And so on. And so forth. As always, I was inspired by others.

Only this time it wasn't Updike, Woodward and Bernstein, Nora Ephron or Micheal Herr. It was Liz, Catherine, and Kristen. Ordinary women with extraordinary voices, who encouraged me with their comments and spurred me on to compete with their lyricism and humor.

Today I write every day, and not because I am a slave to my Sitemeter. I write because I want to. Because I have a story to share. Because you read and you raise your hands and say, "yes, I feel that way, too."

I write because now I can't stop. And I won't ever stop again.

Just three days ago an editor sent me an email because she read this post, and offered me the opportunity to talk with her about freelance opportunities at a new travel website. This is the second offer of work that came either directly or indirectly from the blogosphere.

I made friends in a strange town because of my blog, before I ever set foot within the city limits. I reached out, and these strangers - now companions - reached back to me.

There is no question in my mind - I am not the same person I was before.

Blogging not only changed my life; blogging changed me.