Is blogging useful anymore?

I know it is for me. But is it useful for anyone else these days?

I started on Social media in the days when social media was just starting out.

In the days when you could ask a question on twitter, didn't need a hashtag to start a conversation and met people far and wide with the same interests as you almost immediately and actually made friends, you socialised, shared happy and sad events both online and eventually in real life.

Oh those were the days.

Blogging events, days out, support networks, opened your heart, shared tragic events, reached out, celebrated milestones and received love, support and understanding.

Nowadays it's all adverts, self promotion and pure hatred in some cases.

I used to churn out 2-3 posts a week. Sharing posts about raising a family, life with teens, schooling, discipline. I'd actively seek others in similar situations, avidly read their posts, look for tips and support. I'd joining with blog linkies, read and comment and know I wasn't alone as a parent.

Then we became expats and life changed and I wrote about life abroad, loneliness, isolation, new adventures, travel, charity work and volunteering. My interests changed as the children grew up and left home. I took up photography with an interest in construction when we moved to Dubai and documenting the ever changing skyline. I grew vegetables in the sand, we called our garden. I blogged about international travel and relocating pets. I talked about grief, about health, becoming grandparents, being a landlord and finally about repatriation. 

And now I don't feel I've anything left to talk about. Why? Because social media has got so big, it's just about all covered now. A hashtag is meaningless these days. There are a million and one 'how to guides' no one needs to know how to pack a suitcase, survive the menopause, or read a 1000 word review about a back pack.

So is there anything left to blog about? or has blogging had it's day?

For me, I've always blogged for my sanity and the occasional sponsored post. It kept me sane for 12 years as an expat. It documented our lives abroad. Our lives were different, it was interesting for others to read, it wasn't necessarily better, it was just different. It was interesting for our friends in South Africa to hear our take on their country as foreigners, how we experienced things they took as being the norm, things they took for granted, that were different for us on a visitors visa. Like obtaining a drivers permit for our son, or getting utilities set up, opening bank accounts. Our family and friends were fascinated with our travels in South Africa, the photos of Safaris, the extraordinary houses we lived in, the charity work I did. But as the sun always shone they weren't always interested in the struggles we had or understanding of the difficulties we faced or the fear we lived under from time to time.

Dubai was utopia for all. We were lucky, but it still fascinated people. It wasn't restrictive for me like many people thought, but you couldn't convince them. We were also living the dream, so how could I not be happy 24/7?

But has any of it been useful to anyone else?

There have been blog post about relocating where people have contacted me to ask for further information about moving their pets to another country, about choosing shipping containers, working abroad, visa applications and lots of enquires during covid when I was travelling between Dubai and the UK, know where I was getting my testing done and how to obtain permission to fly. But now 3 years on, that information is no longer valid because so much has changed. It was relevant at the time and was useful to others.

Now I'm just going to work, sharing pictures of DIY around the home and garden, pictures of trips in the camper van, talking about my health, visits with the grandchildren and holidays.

I'm still documenting my life. I share with Project 365, a photo a day and a weekly diary and I co run a weekly Linky called #PoCoLo. But I'm no longer writing anything that may be of interest to others, nothing that may help or inspire other people. I'm only writing for me and maybe the grandchildren who may or may not read these posts long after I've gone and have a fantastic legacy of what life was really like for their grandparents from 2009 onwards.

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about dealing with grief and moving on, it was scheduled to go out on Monday. There was a nagging feeling that something was going to happen. I'd shared this feeling with Peter and a friend. I was frightened to go home. I was frightened to go out. I was eating or sleeping. I was losing weight. I had a head ache. I was encouraged to write it all done and go and see the Doctor. Even I knew it wasn't right.

I didn't go to the Doctor but I wrote it all down, I felt better. I really did feel better. I'd let go. I was talking. I had 2 weeks where I felt lighter. 

Then the absolute worst happened. Our daughter died. I carried on talking and writing. I've had a couple of what I suppose other people would call 'break downs' over the past few weeks in response to 'you're the bravest person I know' 'if anyone can do this, you can Suzanne' when I've replied with 'no I'm not brave' you've just justified that as your excuse for leaving me to sort everything out. I'm not everybody's everything. I'm not everyone's go to person. I'm the one who gets things done because I'm usually the one who takes their tears away, the lack of tears is often seen as lack of emotion, but for me it's sheer shock and stunned silence. I'm not afraid of crying. I've cried this week until the tears don't come anymore, I'm not frightened of crying. I've cried in the coffee shop, I've cried in front of friends, I've cried in the photo shop, at the hospital, at the neighbours, to the cat, with my work colleagues who have visited, anyone who has shown me the slightest bit of care and concern, anyone who genuinely has looked at me and without a word has conveyed 'oh Suzanne, I just don't know what to say' 

There is nothing to say. We've received so many kind words this week, phone calls and visits, along with flowers and cards and a food parcel from my amazing colleagues in work. Invites for coffees for a change of scenery, to be able to talk about Stephanie. Chats on the street with the neighbours who have met her and known us since me moved here in 2002, despite us moving away for 12 years and coming back.

It may feel like a strange thing to be blogging and laying everything out for all to read, but for me writing everything down has always been easier than saying things out loud. There are times I haven't been able to speak, to find the words, but they've been there in my head and the frustration at not being able to get them out has made me so angry. 

I found writing the eulogy of Stephanie's life so cathartic. It was easy, there was so much to say and once I started it just flowed from the start to the end. I asked one of her brothers for some input at one point as I wanted to makes sure their words were heard, as she was their lives also.

Sometimes looking back and reflecting triggers memories I'd buried and it is painful, but over time it makes it easier, it helps to see how far we've come individually and as a family. 

The night Stephanie died will be etched in our memories forever, the emotions and the feelings, the last touch, look, words. The actual timings, order of things and the process will be lost forever, the order of events will change in our minds. But it is recorded in messages that after the initial calls made to our sons and Peters sister, it became impossible to speak, the words were too hard and a serious of cut and paste messages followed, which we then used for days to tell extended family and friends. 

Friends in the real world and online who have lost a child themselves, who have lost a child in the past few weeks. I've been posting photos on instagram, it has helped me. Peter has read through the responses. I'd say only 10% of the people who have commented were physical friends first, and maybe 50% have become real life friends with Peter having met many of them. Blogger friends who have met Stephanie, people who know Stephanie through the power of social media and my endless battle with clean and tidy disabled toilets. 

I've continued to blog since Stephanie died, to record our journey as we grieve. To record the happy moments, which are becoming more frequent. How the sadder moments, physically hurt less. how we are learning to cope and deal with those moments. The grief of missing her isn't less, it's just recognising when it is approaching, being able to stop and pause and accept it, take a deep breath and allow it come, rather than fighting it off, trying to push it away.

There's so much more to be said about Stephanie, about my grief, but that is for separate posts.