Blog Posts: Are Others Interpreting Your Stories the Way You Intended?

Last night, a friend told me that she hates to read my posts and blogs that focus on my kids growing up and leaving “The Nest.” 

She hates them, she said, because she fears she is seeing a future version of herself, as she, too, approaches the “Empty Nest” years. How will she cope? Will she spiral “down?” 

Maybe hate is a strong word. She likes the writing, but thinks I have been sounding a bit melancholy lately. Why have I been positioning myself, prematurely, at the “end of the line” in many of these stories that present details of my kids getting older and living independently, she asked. 

She used as an example a recent post I ran with photos of my kids from a random Saturday night. I had hashtagged it #livingvicariouslythroughmykids. She wanted to make sure that I realized that so much good stuff is yet to come in my own life.

This post about my three kids who sent me photos of themselves on a recent Saturday night out was the impetus for the conversation that led to this blog post. I titled the photos #LivingVicariouslyThroughMyKids

Honestly, I was surprised by her reaction. That this was the vibe she got from me. Did others also get this feeling from my writing?

Generally, I think of myself as perpetually optimistic and upbeat and try to find the bright side of even negative situations. I didn’t think my posts were sad. Sure, they conjure up slices-of-life that could be bittersweet, and make you think about new beginnings and endings, but I like to think I package them all in a way that touches your heart happily.

And while I do have intentions for how I want people to feel when they read what I have written, obviously, I can’t be sure that actually happens. People often tell me that they shed a tear sometimes for a particularly poignant post. My goal isn’t to make people feel sad, but just to make them feel. And to allow them to identify similar feelings that they might be having and be glad that those feelings have been validated for them. And there I think I succeed often.

For a long time, I prepared for my empty nest, and set myself up for success so that I wouldn’t wake up the day my youngest went off to school and ask myself, “What do I do now.” I laid the groundwork to keep myself busy.

Perhaps it is my stories about coming out of Covid and NOT the newly re-empty nest that is giving the impression that I have been stopped in my tracks. I wrote about that feeling in a recent essay on “languishing,” that was published on Thrive Global, but maybe a double dose of melancholy hits when languishing is combined with the sadness that a change in life status can bring. 

While I did not get the virus personally, I do not like what the Covid virus has done to me. 

It is in my power to fight back. 

This weekend, even before I had this conversation, I made the decision to start fighting. I really, really pushed myself and “got out there” for the first time.

It was a busy weekend, and today I am exhausted but feel great.

Friday was my very typical day of back-to-back-to-back Zoom calls that left me fried and needing to do lots of follow up, but I put all that on hold for the weekend.

Two of my three kids (happily) are home for at least the next month, and my husband was taking them camping from Saturday to Sunday.

Saturday, I got an unexpected text from an old college friend who was taking a break from hiking the Appalachian Trail. Would I meet him and another college friend for an impromptu lunch in an hour? YES! I said. 

College reminiscing, playing catchup, a tuna burger, and sweet potato fries were just what I needed. 

Before I could get home I got a text from a friend who asked if we could see “In the Heights” in an actual movie theatre. We did, and I’m still bopping to the sounds of the barrio. 

So excited to quit #languishing” and get back to enjoying activities in person. Seeing #intheheights was a perfect outing.

After that, I told myself that I would have a little bit of #FOMO if I didn’t stop by the luau at our swim club. I got there at the tail end, which was perfect for what I needed at the moment. A very soft reentry into the party scene. I was proud of myself for walking in alone. I said some hellos, and had the conversation that prompted this essay. 

This morning was a really fun tennis match. A very long match that exhausted all of us who played. A highlight reel might focus more on us looking for Motrin and dreaming of the Sloppy Joes that were waiting for us apres-tennis instead of on aces and fancy footwork, but it was, again, exactly what I needed.

The tennis crew from last summer, most of whom were on today’s roster.

Now it is Sunday afternoon at 4pm, and I am already in pajamas. 

While this weekend’s activities may not rival my pre-Covid schedule, it was more than I have done in a very, very long time.   

As my friend at the party told me, A New Life is beginning for me. Filled with possibility and excitement. 

Looking at my “busy” weekend, and detailing the specifics here, I hope it paints a picture of someone who is ready for new things. Someone who wants to bridge the gap between Covid and the “newer” normal. Ready to emerge from the isolation. Not sad. Hopeful. Not melancholy. Just painting a picture of life as I see it. You, of course, can interpret it however you like. 

While I hope that I don’t come across as someone who views herself as “washed up,” (although I’m certain I was older than everyone else at the party and the tennis match today), I’m glad to get the feedback from someone that this is the message I was sending. Or at least the way that someone interpreted it.

Feedback is a powerful tool. It is so good to hear someone’s take on what you are dishing out. You can agree or disagree. It can change how you move forward, or not. I’m not yet sure if it will alter my messaging. But it is something to think about.