august 13, 2018
my posts were always sporadic because I would often start writing something and forget to post. Then I went through what I consider my "lost year" when I helped my sister through her many months of cancer treatment. three years later and I still have a hard time thinking about the long days and weeks of feeling like I was being pulled in 5 different directions every moment of the day. also, I am terrified of putting my real self out "there" for the world to see. I assume that what I say is not clever enough, or funny enough, or interesting enough. I also had (and still have) a bizarre objection to blogging and our society's obsession with over-sharing on the internet. But here I am cascading through life in my 40s and I am in the fortunate position where my "job" is taking care of my family. My time is (mostly) my own to do with what I will while my husband toils away at his job and my kids play with superheroes. I am now, and always have been, a writer. even if no one wants to read what I put down on virtual paper, I feel better when I have extracted the words from my head.
I have many notes of half-written posts and ideas of stories. maybe I will share them. In the meantime, have decided to resurrect this dormant space and use it to keep my imagination swirling and to perhaps share bizarre or boring stories of my life.