Wilson staged an intervention with me this past Friday night.
It wasn’t a traditional intervention. He didn’t question my drinking, he didn’t question my behavior, he questioned my choices — or choice, rather, to abandon Silver Spoon Taste for the last five months. It all started in an Uber that we took home after a fun-and-wine filled evening with some of my absolutely favorite people, and it went a little like this:
Wilson: Anna, you’ve got to start writing on SST again.
Wilson: You haven’t written a post in months, and people feel like they were abandoned by you.
Me: What on earth are you talking about?
Me thinking: How much did he have to drink?
Wilson: The blog! You haven’t written the blog in forever! You worked so hard to build it and then you just gave it up. You used to love writing it, and people loved reading it. Anna you’ve got to start writing it again.
Me thinking: Definitely had too much to drink. Perhaps it was that transfusion. Or was it transfusions? Never trust a purple drink.
Wilson continued: When we lived in Charlotte you were so proud of it. You worked on it every day. You were building a brand. SST got you your job! And you’ve just abandoned it.
Me thinking: When we get home I’ll make sure he drinks plenty of water. He’s going to have a headache tomorrow.
Wilson again: Anna you’ve got to stop making excuses about being busy and just do it. You can’t expect things to happen for you if you don’t put yourself out there.
Me thinking: Well damn.
Over three years ago Wilson and I picked up our Pleasantville life in Charlotte and moved to the strangest, weirdest, and most wonderful place I’ve ever lived, Savannah, Georgia. I had no idea what was in store for us. And now, three years later, our life does look quite different — a new
angel dog, house and friends — and I’m so grateful for all of it. It’s been the best adventure and then some. But Wilson’s right — the one thing that got me here, that gave me all this, I’ve quite literally given up.
Real talk here — my job takes up almost all of my creativity. I’m like a sponge after you squeeze all the water out — dry and hole-y. Often times the last thing I want to do when I get home at night is open my laptop again. Hell, it’s all I can do some days to not throw my laptop out the window because I’m so sick of looking at it. Certainly I can’t be alone in this feeling? And it’s more than being busy — I just don’t have enough creativity to go around I suppose. But Wilson’s right — yes Wilson I said it — that is a big fat excuse.
It’s not just my job though — I think I also found an identity with SST. The more momentum the blog gained, the more confidence I gained, and the more I could see a real future for my professional self. I’ll be a blogger! I’ll be a writer! It’ll be so fabulous! But when I moved to Savannah, the more I felt that blogging was a bit artificial — a very one-dimensional representation of life that didn’t always feel quite authentic despite my best efforts. Turns out keepin’ it real is, like, hard? And herein lies my message — why should I find identity in a blog instead of taking some time to get to know myself? Not Anna the blogger, not Anna the writer, just Anna. She sounds interesting, I think.
I found this quote the other day and sent it to my friend Helen — who has a magnificent blog, by the way, read it here.
It’s kind of rebellious to be yourself. – Kate Moss
Ah, to be uniquely you. But what does that even mean? I think it starts with knowing your self-worth. To know your own value is something that no one can ever take away from you. I recognize I have a myriad of shortcomings, but I am starting to acknowledge that self-worth is much more than just your day-to-day actions — it’s knowing and appreciating yourself at your best, and at your worst, and trusting that your moral compass will lead you back to your true north when you may stray. Like today when I wanted to flick off the guy who cut me off in the parking lot. But decided not to. See? True north.
But back to SST. I think a blog is a wonderful vessel to tell a story — but I need to keep it at that.
Now I know I didn’t do some sort of strange giveaway — seriously what the hell — nor did I tell you a story about white pants or describe how I almost fought a lady over a coffee table, but I did tell you the truth.
I’m not following the 12-step program, but I did just admit that I have a problem. And now I’m apologizing for it. I hope you’ll accept it.