You know the experience of having a friendship end, the pain and confusion, how difficult it is, and how you change because of it?
That’s how it felt when I stopped blogging.
At first, it was a hot and heavy love affair. Blogging and I spent one hundred and twenty days straight together, filled with stimulating, truthful and connected conversations.
However, when it all changed seemingly overnight, I panicked. The once comforting space had morphed into a place where my insecurities played creepy peek-a-boo.
Sharing myself with an audience was hard because it placed a spotlight on the things in myself I didn’t like. And it was seeing myself through that lens, of a funhouse-like mirror, that gave me no choice but to quit.
And it’s taken a decade for me to return to it – to the space that one time, long ago, chewed me up and spat me out.
I needed you to know that this isn’t my first rodeo. And despite that experience, I’m committed to show up here day every day.
Because I do it now for the same reason, I did back then. I love it.
I love
processing my experience on a blank page.
playing with words.
and experiencing the interactions, the networking, and the community it creates.
And I’m noticing something about myself from showing up here almost daily for this past month; I’m not the same person I was back then.
I allow myself to make and admit mistakes today.
I support my tastes, quirks. I am playful.
Not to completely derail this conversation, but I took a break from writing and got carried away researching tiny homes and glamping accommodations for our trip to Southern Utah in March.
C’mon Utah, $930 to say in a fancy tent on steroids?!
I digress.
Love,
Me
Going On 40 