Something for me.

A number of years ago I made a weekly drive to Lansing, driving just over one hour to be somewhere for just over two hours only to drive just over one hour back home. I did it because it was something for me. It was something I loved, something that drove me. Something that made me feel like I was making some sort of difference in someone's world.

It was Ele's Place. It was a place where kids who were grieving the death of someone significant in their lives could gather to be human again. It was a place for them, and it was a place for me. I volunteered there one night each week for a bit better than one year. And then I got pregnant with my oldest daughter, and it no longer made sense for me to make the drive. I cried when I left.

Yesterday, my sister asked me how things were going for me right now. First she asked in code, and then she spelled it out: Have you been feeling depressed again? She said, "Because you seem more chipper."

Having recently written about it, I had a quick and easy answer for her. Fish oil pills.

Then I had a longer answer for her, one that took us most of the way from Grand Rapids to Muskegon. I explained the Omega 3s, which I really do believe are making a difference. I also explained this blog and my 20 November posts. I told her that I believe that the time I have taken each day to type out some thoughts--no matter how random or how low the quality--has made a huge impact on my life. Dear Writer Friend said that it is quantity not quality, but I have to say that this quantity leads to a completely different kind of quality--quality of life.

As I was thinking about writing today, I thought about my mindset when I started this whole November thing. I knew that there were people who regularly check my blog to see the ramblings of a self-proclaimed FunnyWriterMommy, and they often teased me for not writing more. (Maybe I should start a new blog: FunnyNONWriterCauseI'mAMommy!) So then I made this commitment to write every day of the month, and I wondered how the followers would grow and how many comments I would get. When I would log back on and see that I had none, I would feel a twinge of "Is it worth it?!"

I didn't volunteer at Ele's Place because I thought that any of those beautiful middle school students grieving the death of fathers, brothers, and grandfathers needed me for even one second. I volunteered there because I needed something for me. Some little corner of the world set aside for me. It was selfish, but I loved every minute of it. That's why I cried when it was gone.

So here I am. In the middle of a new corner of the world that was sitting here waiting for me--almost as soon as Ele's Place left and Ellie Grace arrived. I have gotten more followers, and I have gotten a number of comments. The comments encourage me, and I feel honored that people take the time to read what I think is important enough to get down on "paper."

But that's not what it's about anymore. This is about me. This is something for me. And the 20 minutes I get for this each day is making me sane for the 22 hours I give each day to everyone else. So comment if you want. I'm not writing for you. I'm writing for me, because it gets hard to hold on without this bit for me. But I'm happy to let you eavesdrop.