A year ago I decided to try and become a better writer. I set a goal to write one blog post a week and see what happened. Obviously, I’ve done other writing as well, but making myself put something up for public consumption and sticking to a defined timeline was challenging from a mental standpoint as well as being a specific, measurable goal.

I honestly don’t know if Jake loves when I sit down to write or if he absolutely hates it.

At first I just wrote whatever I felt like writing. There were a few times I attempted to throw something up just because I thought people would like or be interested in it, and usually I was wrong. Often I would write something that I really wanted to get out and worried that it was ‘too much,’ uninteresting or even that I would get criticized. Most of the time, those tended to be the posts that people related to the most. I never get tons of public comments, but sometimes I get private messages or emails. I’ve learned that if I’m not inspired, most likely, I’m not inspiring.

I’ve also had to navigate instances where I’ve had a lot to say, but either needed to shield someone else’s privacy or feelings. Or it could be that, although I really wanted to shout this from the rooftops in the moment, my friends in the physical realm, who were experiencing this with me, advised me to use discretion. (And deep down, I knew that they were right.) I always found a way to say what I needed to say without being an asshole, to put it bluntly. Or at least I’ve made a great effort in that direction.

There have been weeks where Friday looms and I have no idea what to write about whatsoever. I’ve either felt that whatever I was processing at the moment has already been beaten to death on the blog (moving, the fire, etc.) and I didn’t have a new angle on it, or I wasn’t ready to go public with whatever I was dealing with. I’ve dealt with that a few different ways. Sometimes I’d ask my mom or my husband ‘what should I write about this week?’ and sometimes they’d try to come up with a suggestion. I’ve had a few people write in with requests, which, oddly, is almost just as difficult. The great thing about requests is that you have something to chip away at if you give yourself a few days. Sometimes I just write anything and save as draft. I write whatever I feel like, just let it spew out, and then sift through the detritus looking for anything that might be useful to anyone. A lot of times I just scrap the entire thing on Friday morning and shoot from the hip. I still think the entry is better for having offloaded the chaff the evening prior.

Basically, I’ve learned to just sit down and write. Write not only what I need and want to write, although that is crucial, but also write with care of who might be receiving the words, because you never know who might internalize them. I don’t know who all is reading this. I mean, I know my mom is reading it. Sometimes my husband reads it if he’s bored at lunch or if I specifically ask him to, but the analytics say that a lot more than just a handful do check in. I’ve been pleasantly surprised at the occasional comment from someone that I never guessed would be reading. And then some people I don’t even know have apparently found and followed these blurbs. (I won’t name specific countries that I don’t know anyone in, because I don’t want to call anyone out, but you get the idea.) So I do my best.

I start writing and then I try and sift through and see if there’s anything in all of that junk I just poured out of myself that might be helpful for anyone to read. Or entertaining. Or relatable. And then I find pictures!

Look at Chicago Meredith. All cool and together with all of her Chicago friends.

I checked back on my first post of 2019 on Thursday afternoon to see if inspiration might strike. Perhaps I could bring things full circle in someway. But this has been an entirely different year. In some ways, I’ve spent more time than necessary regretting or trying to give meaning to things I think I’ve lost in 2019. When I speak of loss, I’m not speaking only of physical things from the fire or grief like my grandma, although I’ve spent some time mourning them as well. I look back at journals, at old blog entries, even my own daily habits and I beat myself up for not being ‘as good’ as Chicago Meredith was. Chicago Meredith did more yoga, more meditation, didn’t have a car, toughed it out on the bike, was constantly looking at how to grow and pushing herself. She had tons of friends, she taught a full schedule of classes, was always auditioning, and still found time to take other classes and get a regular massage. What’s wrong with Nashville Meredith? When is she gonna get it together?

I’m trying to give Nashville Meredith a break. And remember that Chicago Meredith was once Louisiana Meredith and she didn’t have it all together when she first got to Chicago either. (Even more of a mess was the transition from Louisiana Meredith to England Meredith then back to Louisiana Meredith. Ugh.) Chicago Meredith had her hard times too and did a lot of her own growing. She was also very cold and tired of the weather and the weather wasn’t going to change. She also missed her family and they weren’t going to get any closer. She also knew that this move was going to be difficult and a lot of that hard work that she was putting into herself and her career was the only way she could think to prepare for this new unknown that she was jumping into. Chicago Meredith was pretty sure that this was where she wanted to be, she was careful, she was smart and she did her best to get ready for it. Now Nashville Meredith is here and she’s trying to figure it out.

One of my favorite pictures of Chicago Meredith. Here she’s sitting in Nashville on a trip in 2018. Deciding that she’s going to live here someday.

Chicago Meredith started this blog one year ago with the goal of writing once a week and she did it for two months. Nashville Meredith finished out the year. She’s learned a lot about writing. She’s also made friends and found places to teach and places to learn. She’s been through a lot and she’s done her best.

Now I’m going to stop talking about myself in the third person before I get lost. Have you ever noticed that it’s easier to be nice to yourself if you give yourself a title of sorts and talk about yourself in the third person? That’s another thing I’ve learned. I knew this transition would be difficult and that I couldn’t prepare for it. I also knew that I was going to try to prepare anyway. And I’m glad I did. And it has been difficult in ways I didn’t expect. It’s also been great. And I do think that it’s going to get better and I don’t think that I’m done growing. I’m definitely not finished writing.

I’m looking forward to putting a cap on this year. And I’m pretty sure Chicago Meredith knew what she was doing.

What I've learned after a year of posting a weekly blog.