Full of Shiitake
- 03
- 26
- 10
I don’t like profanity. But I do like mushrooms. Interestingly, this post is about neither.
This post is about something else. Something that’s a bit hard to pin down. About promises. About vows. About expectations. About guilt. About saying one thing and doing something else. About being (unwittingly or no) full of, well, shiitake.
A while back, I wrote a vulnerable piece on my periodic insecurities in the context of this blogging world. In this piece, I committed myself to blog on my own terms, to make blogging fun, to make it the delicious icing on the good layer cake of my life. I wrote,
I am going to stop letting this blog add to my insecurities. I already have plenty. I am going to make this a fun and philosophical haven. A joint for anyone who is up for big questions and good conversations. And, in this renewed spirit of Ivy League Insecurities, I am going to try to answer every single comment that is left on this blog.
I read this now – a mere six or so weeks later – and certain barbed questions zip through my mind. To enumerate:
- What is wrong with me?
- Why do I make promises I have no way of keeping?
- Why do I sometimes operate under the apparent belief that there are more than twenty-four hours in the day and that I am a robot and not a harried mother and writer who is a guilt machine? Why?
And if I am thinking these things, these critical things, I can only imagine what you are thinking. Liar. Manipulator. BS Artist. Lowly blogger trying to get traffic.
Or maybe I am just human. My vow to respond to comments and to visit blogs came from a good place. It did. I think that responding to comments and visiting loyal bloggers is what makes this endeavor enjoyable. This is not just about words splashed on a screen. This is about connection and conversation. On the level of principle, I also believe – and fervently – that responding comments and visiting loyal bloggers is the right thing to do. I like doing the right thing. I feel guilty when I don’t do what I deem to be “the right thing.”
But.
There is this little thing called Life. A Life full of little creatures and big dreams and endless lists. A Life full of gray questions and rainbow wishes. A Life full of logistics and practicalities. And this Life has gotten in the way. It needs me. It pulls me. It demands me. And sometimes, like now, like so often, I barely have time to write a blog post, let alone pen responses and visit other blogs. Sometimes, like now, like so often, I don’t have time to do the “right thing.”
And this feels crappy. Because I care about you guys. Those of you who make yourselves known by leaving your words here. Those of you whose voices and blogs I’ve come to know and love. Those of you who have supported me through the soggy and sunny days of this past year.
I look back at what I said, the contours of a far-fetched and rookie aim, and I notice one important word, tiny in its three letters: try. I said I would try. And I have. It’s just that I have failed. And this is never fun.
So I apologize to all of you for making promises, foolish promises, I’ve been able to keep.
I apologize to Me for making promises, foolish promises, I’ve been unable to keep.
I apologize for being full of shiitake.
______________________________
- Do you consistently make promises to yourself and to others that you can’t possibly keep?
- Why do we so often hold ourselves to standards we’d never hold others to?
- When you do not meet your own expectations – in blogging, in parenting, in living – do you feel guilty?
- Are you a fan of profanity and/or mushrooms?
*The winner of yesterday’s giveaway of the early copy of my novel LIFE AFTER YES was… Emily!***
alright aidan… i’ve commented politely for weeks now, at times biting my tongue. (and no, i will not swear at you.)
but i will honestly say, you’ve got to give yourself a break hun.
this is a blog. and while pouring your heart and soul into your blog is something that i know of and do myself, i am also well aware that it’s just a blog. with that comes empty promises to comment, respond, RT a post, etc… but in my opinion (which means nothing) they have to be empty promises, because just like you said above, “there is a little thing called life.”
and so when our kids (ok, my kid) busts his lip on the window sill he’s trying to scale like a monkey, while you take what you think is 2 seconds to comment on someone’s awesome post… life happens.
and to me, that doesn’t mean you owe anyone… your readers, your audience, any sort of apology.
life doesn’t apologize to us… why are you apologizing for your life?
i love your blog. i adore you. you know that… but hun, give yourself a break.
at the end of the day, this is just a blog.
(please don’t unfollow me on twitter.)
xoxo.
“Just a blog.”
These three words make perfect sense to me. And they also don’t. This blog is part of my life. An increasingly bigger part. This is the place where I come to tell my stories, to start conversations that buzz in my mind, to ask questions that interest me. Through this blog, I have encountered several people – actual people – whom I have grown to care about and whose voices I respect. And so. Yes. I feel committed to this place. I want to be here. I want to be writing and editing and memorializing my moments as a mother and a writer. I would not be pouring heart and soul into this world – or any world – if I did not want to, if there were not true passion involved.
This is why this is hard. Because though I am invested here (oh and I am), I am feeling stretched. If this were “just a blog” to me, just a little space to come and jot my fleeting thoughts, I would walk away in a heartbeat. I would take that break you so fervently endorse. But it is not that easy. I have found a home here. And I am thrilled to say that.
That is why it feels crappy when I cannot commit the time and energy I want here – because I care so much. Because this place, this odd little place, has become an integral and insightful part of my admittedly much bigger life.
As always, the boundaries are hazy here. This is not just a blog. It is a piece of me. Who I am. And who I am becoming.
aidan- i’m sorry those three words, “just a blog” resonate with you so deeply. your struggle is obvious in your words, your tone; and as one who truly cares for you and admires your writing, i’m sorry this is so hard for you right now.
it is so apparent from your commenters below that you and your words are appreciated. in the same way that you have “found a home here,” i think it’s safe to say that you have also created a home here for many of your readers, myself included.
i am by no means suggesting you walk away. by saying “give yourself a break,” i meant cut yourself some slack… not walk away or close the laptop.
i just don’t think you have anything to apologize for. that’s all.
I appreciate your response to my response
Here’s the odd thing and I admit it is odd: I think that I create struggles for myself. I think I thrive on cultivated hardship. Truth be told, I enjoy this place immensely – yes, even when it is hard to devote what I want to it, even when I feel tugs and doubts. Perhaps that makes me a strange creature, but I find the grays, the layers, the flailing, to be both interesting and in some sense uplifting…
What is also quite amazing to me is that I wrote this post from a place of seriousness and silliness. Seriousness because I do feel an authentic commitment to the friends I’ve made in this world and to the invisible structures and etiquette I see here. But silliness because I am playing around with the name of a mushroom and avoiding swearing at all costs… It is quite fascinating to me how my words – and all of our words – can be interpreted in myriad ways… That this is patently being seen as a darker, more somber post, but that I can’t stop saying the word shiitake and smiling
I appreciate your candor, your voice, and your concern. As always. Merci!
You go on and be as full of shiitake as you want. I find it yummy.
Enjoy the day!
Erin
cheers to shiitake, my friend.
Agreed, Nic.
I think the key here is the intent behind the goal. The intent was pure, honest, and genuine. And we can see that. So we give you permission not to be perfect, because we know you mean well.
Obviously we really like you just how you are or we wouldn’t keep coming back. You have become one of my favorite stops!
I know what you mean tho. It is “just a blog,” but that doesn’t mean it’s not important. I think about some of these bloggy friends a lot. I’m constantly trying to lower my expectations of myself where my blogging is concerned, to give me more of my novel writing time and LIFE. But something compels me to not abandon it.
Your happiness night sounded amazing, btw…
Now, see. I missed getting over here and missed the chance at an early copy of “Life After Yes.”
I so understand. One of my favorite phrases is “life gets in the way of what I want to do.”
Off to do some work so I can do some “life” after that.
I feel you warring with your worlds, troubled and being pulled all around like a leaf blowing in the fall wind. I know that feeling intensely, as I try to do the same, manage and enjoy my family, pursue and grow my career, spend time with my friends and family, and grow my own blog, that like yours has become a part of me. I have no answers, only that I’m trying to find the same kind of balance you are. It’s tough and yet I’m unwilling to make the really hard decisions. So I plug along, I visit my favourite blogs faithfully as often I can because people like you give me inspiration and my life feels more rich because of it. But I do it only as much I can, and I try hard not to beat myself up if that’s not as much as I would like.
Remember, when you write you are giving to us, and I for one am grateful for whatever you have to share. It’s a gift all on it’s own.
A leaf blowing in the fall wind… Indeed. Seemingly light, full of intense and shifting color, vulnerable to life’s elements. Absolutely. Oddly, more often than not I enjoy the flitting around, the slight lack of control, the whimsy of existential wind. But sometimes it is hard and disorienting… Thanks for the ripe metaphor.
I think that as long as you are trying your hardest, you can’t feel guilty if the result is far from your expectations. It was the attitude I always gave to hard classes, or the bar exam, or anything else that was really too much to digest. As long as I knew I tried my hardest I could never regret the result – I would feel satisfied at least that there was nothing more I could have done.
Not sure if that is helpful but honestly there only are so many hours in the day!
All this being said, I never failed the bar or a class for that matter (phew). I actually did pretty well but my attitude gave me the mental space to breathe and not feel bad that I wasn’t doing it all perfectly. And you are certainly far from failing! Your blog is awesome and the other areas in your life are going swimmingly also. You need to just cut yourself some slack, do the best you can on any given day and wake up the next day and start again no regrets. Even if on a given day you give 10 minutes to your blog, no minutes to anyone else’s, reply to one or two comments only, and spend the rest of the day playing with your girls, hanging with your fam, having some quality US Weekly time at the gym and buying some new cute shoes. There is nothing to feel guilty about in a day like that, or any other type of day where you are able to enjoy some of what life has to offer. It’s like going to an amazing buffet and eating 5 of the 100 things they have to offer. You can revel in the 5 delicious treats you got to have or feel sad you didn’t get to the other 95. Just enjoy the delights of this day!
As I have said about balance, as long as overall you feel like you are getting quality time with your family, your writing and time for yourself it doesn’t matter if in any given day or week your time is skewed more, even dramatically more, in one direction than the others. My husband (and most other husbands I know – and I am not being sexist about working women but bear with me) goes to work, spends his day fully engaged in thinking about the markets and the economy and all things dollars and cents, and comes home to 20-30 minutes usually with our baby before she goes to sleep, and then to a night with me. He gets nearly all of his quality family time with our baby during the weekends. He does not fret about balance, or feel guilty for spending most of his week thinking instead of with his baby etc. He enjoys his life and career and family and takes as much quality time with the things he loves as he can, and he doesn’t beat himself up about it. Nor does he beat himself up if he gets to leave work early to be with us, even if there are more tasks he could have accomplished there. Maybe you just need to think more like a man!
Okay that was long but bottom line, you amaze me with all that you do and if you could step back and see yourself as we all do you’d be very pleased. Hopefully you would see what is plain to me: if you dropped your expectations about 10 notches you’d still be one of the most impressive people you know!
I LOVE this buffet analogy. Love it. Seriously. Because life is a buffet, isn’t it? And if we sample everything – and all at once – we will feel sick and not enjoy our tasty choices one bit. This is a really helpful way to look at things!
And now I must ponder this “thinking like a man” bit. Could be genius
Of course I echo the sentiments of everyone here, and can so relate. When you set out to be a writer, it’s about writing. When I first got involved in the blog world I had no idea how much more than blogging in really entailed — commenting, emailing, reading other blogs, etc. But take solace in knowing that we don’t comment just to hear back from you. We comment to support you or add our own two cents or answer the questions you so thoughtfully add to the end of each post. I keep coming back because you make me think of new things, or really of old things in new ways. When I get a response, it’s a bonus, but it’s not why I come to the party. I come because I love to read your words! So live your life and do what you can do. Your readers won’t abandon you now!
Miss Aidan… I have to agree with Nic.
We come here because we love to read what you have to say, because you have a way – with words and analogies and questions that we could all use a few answers to. I know I don’t come back because you have responded to me, or visited my blog. That is nice – that is icing – but I come here for the cake, the real deal.
I post a 30 Words Thursday. I should have done that yesterday, on Thursday, but I lost a day this week with a kid who was throwing up at school. So yesterday I did manage to post, but I did a RAW (Random Acts of Wisdom) instead. And then realized that I missed the 30 Words Thursday. But life happens like that. I don’t think I offended anyone from not posting what I said I would on Thursdays.
I blog without obligation. It says so right on my blog. That means no apologies, no excuses. No feeling bad if I can’t do it in some arbitrary time frame I have placed on myself (because no one else is making me do this). I blog because I want to, when I want to, and if I still have readers who follow me, all the better.
Don’t let this blog – as important as it is to you – get in the way of experiencing the joy of your life.
Keep writing when you can.
I’ll still be reading.
Enjoy the day, Aidan!
Erin
Aidan, dear sweet Aidan…You simply made a hearfelt promise of something you really wanted to do. If anyone has gotten to know you in these pages they would have saw that and never in a million years taken you to task for it. I would love to be able to comment on every single post of friends myself, or better yet return sentiments in my own comment section. As hard as that is for me…I can only imagine the difficulty with two little ones in the bargain.
You hit on the key word in any relationship online or off – try. It’s all any of us can do on any given day. That being said no one is a harder taskmaster than yourself. Be nice to you. Relax and enjoy the journey.(Hugs)Indigo
I am all about making big, sweeping promises. And I know why you do it. You do it because you want to be the person who can keep those promises, for the people to whom you’ve made them, but also for yourself. You think that the promise (which is really just a goal in another form) will force you to rise to the occasion. And it often does. But at some point (I’m learning) you hit your max. There are simply no more hours in the day. You have promised too much. And this catches you off guard because you don’t feel like you’ve over-promised, because you never REALLY believed you had a limit in the first place.
But you do. We all do.
I don’t think that means you should stop making the promises. And I don’t even think it means you should stop apologizing for breaking them. I think you should keep making them, keep trying to keep them, and keep apologizing when you just can’t. THAT is life.
Then again, what do I know. I promised a “conversation” on my blog and haven’t responded to a comment in weeks. So maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better….
Hi Aidan.
1. I love your writing.
2. This post made me think of a phenomenon I see a lot but haven’t named yet (I like to name phenomena
)….
Often when I’m doing or thinking something kind and self-compassionate and liberating for myself….I notice I’ll have an impulse to create some sort of very demanding, very structured, and doomed-to-fail (though I can’t see that part in the moment), program around that.
I’ll have the thought to wander over to my bookshelf and read some poetry, something I usually don’t make time to do, but love. I’ll be thinking, wow…life is sweet… it’s so sweet to just do the things I love. Then the follow on thought comes up: In Fact, I Shall Read Poetry Twenty Minutes Per Day Through December 31. Yes, this will be my new program. I’m starting today. Ready Set Go.
I can remember one of my coaching clients once developing the most beautiful vision about how she wanted to nurture all these lost passions – for art, yoga, volunteering in the most gentle, open way with herself. When I asked, “So what action step is next with this?” she thought about it for a minute and said, “Getting in shape. I’m going to start weight training every day and take pictures of my body to track my progress.” Whoa! Where did that come from? The internal taskmaster (slavedriver?) was present again.
What’s up with this? I do think we all have voices inside that are self-punishing, voices whose intention is to protect the status quo and keep us in our little boxes.
When we stop listening to those voices, they start yelling more loudly to try and get us back in.
Even before I read the rest of your post, when I read the “responding” commitment that followed your words about blogging on your own terms and having fun with it I thought…huh? what’s the connection between a rule about responding to comments and this cool freedom she’s feeling about doing this in a fun, delicious way?
No idea if this will resonate with you….and I do not mean to pychoanalyze you in your blog comments!
But this is my answer to all of the questions at the end of your post…
Oh, except the last one. Interesting, I have a dynamic love/hate relationship with both profanity and mushrooms, which clearly only goes further to demonstrate the connection between the two.
Thanks for your fabulous writing!
Tara
I remember when you made those declarations. I believe my comment to that original post was something like, you are crazy.
We all get it. Just this week I disappeared from blogland because of LIFE. And now I am back. I’m sure I will leave again. Give yourself a break, lady!
Well I have been away for a couple of days. Partly by choice, partly by necessity. Work is burying me alive so this is really the first chance I have had to visit(you are often my first ‘stop’). It felt good in a way. I caught up on some housework, went through my daughters school work and watched a tv show. But now that I am back and see all the magic I have missed I am a little sad.
But what I *really* want to say is that you are NOT full of shitake. You are amazing. But you are also human. Now, if you put this blog, us, before your family or any other utterly important things in your life that would be shitake
I’m vowing to give up (ok lets be real, lessen) the guilt I feel all the time. I want to feel freer, lighter, more forgiving of myself. You should totally join me! {{{{{hugs}}}}}
I just wanted to say I love your blog. This is the only blog I have ever commented on and look forward to coming to visit it every day- it is the highlight of my work day and I usually spend my lunchtime eating my sandwich with “you.” I love when you respond to my comments but at the same time- there is only so much time in the day! You do the best you can and when I see you responding to comments at really late hours in the evening I think you must be Super Human- when do you sleep!?…but based on this post I am finding you are just like everyone else! You’re doing the best you can! Keep telling yourself that…oh and tell yourself that You Rock too!!
I saw this title on facebook and laughed! I find I like to tell others of my plans and goals to keep myself accountable. I figure if I tell enough people, then I’ll HAVE to do it to maintain credibility. And for that reason, I’ll be growing out my hair for the next 3-4 years (locks of love) and will probably be attending school for just as long. To your defense, you said “try” which you honestly did. I don’t know if I could come up with a way to respond to every comment without sounding terribly generic. Kudos for what you have been able to do!
I think what you are feeling are growing pains: growing blog, growing you, growing career, growing girls, growing home, growing projects. You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I once wrote a post called, “No Apologies” about my own blog. I have expectations and failures and apologies everywhere in my life, but I don’t apologize on my blog unless it is VERY warranted. Do your best, give yourself some space, and don’t worry about it. Your best is enough, no apologies needed.
Dear Aidan. We have all been there. I recently talked about this last week and today (incidentally). Life is busy. Yes, I love reading your responses to my comments, BUT I do not expect it. I usually comment to let you know I am reading and enjoying your words. (And to let you know that I can’t wait to read your book!)
As I sat thinking about this post, I was reminded of when I was in school. If I did not complete all my required reading, I would feel so guilty. In many ways, this has transferred over to the blog world. I have my required blogs that I read. If I don’t comment, I have failed. I am sure people don’t think that, but I think that. It is not a pretty feeling.
I understand your guilt. Even if I tell you to let it go, you just can’t. I can’t! However, I hope you feel better knowing that I will come here and read (and comment when I can) everyday. Even if you come over and check my blog like once a month. I KNOW how busy you are. I can relate. I don’t expect you to nor do I want you to! Family is always first. Always, always, always.
Oh Aidan, I hear you. This expectation to be good and raising the bar beyond what’s realistic is a self-punishment trap we all too easily fall into and possibly thrive in. But you know what, as I read this post, I could really see how much relationships mean to you in a way I’d never seen in any of your posts before. And I suspect that you are a born connector — someone who naturally pulls people into your life and genuinely wants to show affection for and commitment to everyone in your world, in a quality way. This is a good things because, really, this virtual world, regardless of how much we accept or deny it, is real and is a ripe place to form friendships and deep bonds. Yes, it’s just a blog, but it’s also more. And I feel your guilt, a lovely by-product of having been raised Catholic. I read your post yesterday and wanted to comment to: 1) let you know what I thought and 2) have a chance to win your book which I’ll buy anyway; but I was working from home and tending to a sick boy with campylobacter (talk about shiitake). Life got in the way so I gave myself a break; a handy talent I’ve developed after having failed myself more times than I’d like to admit.
I love mushrooms and the title of this post.
The lovely thing about good friends is that they do not mind at all when we fall short. In fact, they may not even notice. They understand that life pulls us in sundry directions. They recognize that our grasp is limited and is always surpassed by our reach. They fall short themselves sometimes too. And in return we grant them the same consideration and the same support that they shower upon us when we need it.
Friendship (blogship?) is circular, giving and receiving when we can. And it is not exempt from the distractions of our offline lives. Quite frankly, were it not for the questions, fumbles, thoughts, and victories of our offline lives, what bread would we break here in this virtual space? If we are friends we owe each other our best efforts and our best understanding. Nothing more.
I consider it a privilege to call you my friend. Give what you have and I will do the same. And when our wells run dry we will wait for life to fill them up again.
Kind of irrelevant: in my world, the acronym ILI stands for Influenze Like Illness. So every time I see it on your blog I feel like I should slap up a contact/droplet/airbourne precautions sign and make you wear a mask.
In regards to this post: yes, me too. Impossible goals. Unachievable dreams. Neverending promise guilt. Ah well, gotta aim high and accept the failures as part of the journey. Most of us understand!
Well, if ever a post called out to me to de-lurk myself, this one is it. Honey, I don’t even stay on top of the comments on my own blog! I know that if I were perfect I’d send everyone a scented, letterpress thank-you card, but hey that just ain’t gonna happen. On a good day I can barely glance at a quarter of what’s in my reader.
A word of appreciation is due to you for your honesty and for the fact that you aren’t succumbing to the all-to-common tendency these days to equate potty language with edgy, brilliant writing.
Uh oh, Aidan. I love swearing. Does that mean we have to end this relationship?
Just kidding – I do love swearing, but I try to keep it in check online. And in the workplace. And around kids and elderly. Mostly, I love to swear in the comfort of my own home. Probably because I wasn’t allowed to swear as a kid. I’m rebelling, in my tiny Type-A way.
If there was ever a time not to respond to every comment, not to post every day, not to make every post deep and thought-provoking – that time in now, woman! You’re publishing a book, building a house, selling your apartment. And raising two kids. For goodness sake, all this calls for a sabbatical I think! No guilt.
Hmmm – I think that’s my new mantra. NO GUILT!!!
Even though I would certainly not mind if you came to visit my littler corner of the Internet, I don’t expect you – with your number of followers – that you’re able to keep up with the blogs of all your readers.
I think it’s awfully nice of you already that you take the time and (almost) always respond to every single comment on your posts.
At least, that way you make your readers feel appreciated and heard.
How you’re able to keep up with your daily writing is beyong me – so kudos to you for that!
you can say you failed, but do i have to believe you
why not believe what i believe,
you are in some great years of life having a blast.
wonderful family, husband, kids, extended family is not really a pain…
you’ve got health – a few insecurities idolized, immortalized, or sequestered, who cares, i love to read what you write…
you are an “internet sensation!”
there is no need to apologize for not having more time in the day than the 24 hours we all have! being a writer, a wife, a mother, a blogger, an answerer of all comments, a “whatever”, is a conscious choice that you have made, and you are free to make another choice any time you wish (ok, maybe not the mom thing…) we are all dashing out and about in both the real and the virtual worlds, occasionally crossing paths and making connections, and none of us are obliged to live up to anything other than our own expectations. how many people lurk and don’t leave comments? how many leave comments and never return? it is a surprise and a delight when the blogger comments on our comments (thanks!), but it is not expected. We are women, we understand.
Aidan, of course it’s impossible to comment on all the comments although I know why you want to. It’s because a blog is a conversation of a type, especially when you ask a question at the end of it.
I’ve seen other writers do interesting things with that in the past. I’ve seen them write a reply in here and there in the response sections, maybe referencing several comments and furthering the conversation along, and I’ve seen comment much later, thanking everyone for stopping by, or replying only to certain comments. I’m sure it’s not a choice between all or nothing.
I think welcoming new visitors, however, is one of the nicest things you did when I first found you. But remember we know what’s it’s like juggling all those competing demands.
Breathe in, breathe out. Do what you can when you can, nothing more, nothing less. Relax, honey. We’re all human. We get it.
Dear Aidan, Debra’s comment said it for me – BREATHE!!! Dear girl (virtually wrapping my arms around you) you have a lot going on. You won’t be able to be all things to all people for a long time (dur – like, never).
Do you consistently make promises to yourself and to others that you can’t possibly keep?
Absolutely. I’m an over-promising under-deliverer. And a first-born daughter. Oh yeah, and Adult Child of (two) Alcoholics.
Why do we so often hold ourselves to standards we’d never hold others to?
For me, more of the same: first born daughter and ACOA, raised by an abusive critical parent.
When you do not meet your own expectations – in blogging, in parenting, in living – do you feel guilty?
Of course. I think I was fed it in my formula.
Are you a fan of profanity and/or mushrooms? Not a fan of profanity, though I’ve been known to use it. Really only like the button mushrooms, and then, only raw with ranch dressing.
Seriously, Aidan. You’ve written recently about your dad (stress of grief), Happier Hour (stress of having a big deal of a party), you have young children, and a husband. There will be more time later. All you can do is: What You Can, with What You’ve Got, Where You Are.
Just remember that we love you and are NOT judging you.
Trece