It's been, by all accounts, two years since I have lived in this space. Once upon a time, this was my church, my confessional, my happy place. It was the literary version of those places you can go and throw axes. I came here to spew thoughts that I wouldn't share with someone in person.
Writing gave me more than an outlet. Writing gave me the chance to bask in a rare feeling for me; I could know that I was doing something I was good at. Writing gave me a mirror in which I could look, hard, at who I am and the things I was doing. And, on occasion, writing gave me a very tiny income and some free stuff. I even had the opportunity to share an essay on-stage. I have made great friends through writing and have had the chance to fill my heart with the things that other people have written.
Writing was my jam. But, somehow, I drifted away. I stopped by a few times but found that my rhythm was gone. The things that were on my mind were stuck there, left to feed and grow in my head. I was too busy to write, then things became too heavy. Facing this blog and all eight of my readers felt like facing a firing squad.
It wasn't just here- I wasn't talking to anyone. My penchant for social media was sidetracked by my penchant for shutting down. Texts went unanswered. It was bad, y'all. That kind of stilted feeling leaked into all aspects of my life. I was functioning at Mediocre at best- mediocre parent, mediocre wife, mediocre friend, mediocre employee.
It's time to try and climb out of this funk. It will be messy, and it will involve cycling back to some things I really, really would rather just move on and pretend never happened. But I am a grown-up- a middle aged woman!- and I can do this.
So, to quote the esteemed poets of our time, Salt-N-Pepa:
Here I go, here I go, here I go again.