So Then...

This blog doesn't really seem like the right place for me to write anymore. 

It's funny because I felt like an exile for ages, and I was so happy to get back here and writing, and touch base with some of you again and yet... 

Things have changed for me. Relationships have changed. I'm changing. 

Writing here kind of feels like I have to conform to the expectations of who and what I was here a long time ago. Writing here got dangerous too, and it still doesn't feel like a safe space.

And it seems like I'm struggling to write here, I haven't written in almost a month and... I miss it and miss you and your comments. But yet I'm not writing. 

I feel sometimes like I'm struggling with craziness. Up and down and ... yes I know I always was, but now more than ever. Lots of uncertainty. 

So ... maybe this is a starter post. A stub. And I will come back often. Maybe. 

Maybe this post will open everything up again and things will flow. 

Or maybe I need to move on and write somewhere else. 

Or both? 

Of course, if you have questions, or suggestions or motivating things you want to say to me, to encourage me to write and share, just jump in and inspire me. 

Or maybe I will find my muse again. Wish me luck?

Creaky

Being back to my blog is strange. It's like prying open the door to an old house and finding that it squeaks and creaks and there are some strange things as well as things I remember with joy.

It's a liberating thought that I can write anything.

That I will see my friends again. That I've missed you.

It's going to take me a couple days to figure things out. I can't even change the look of it anymore.

Can't rearrange the furniture or repaint or wallpaper. Boo.

I've moved some things that were published to a draft format. I might move them back to published in the future. If there's something you notice that is missing and you want to see it back, please let me know. I might as well know what y'all are thinking while I tidy up.

And yes, I have relationship things to share. I'm thinking about those, about where I am and how to tell it while I play with the rest. The rest is easier in a way. It's just technology. And publishing. Not feelings.

I Found My Way Back

I'm back. 

Things are different. 

I missed you all so much. My community that suddenly wasn't. I knew it was important to me, the support. But I don't think I realized how much. 

I used to hate it when bloggers just disappeared. It felt like a bit of a betrayal. I understand that. 

I'm sorry I left. 

I missed having a place to write that was my own. I missed having readers. 

I miss you guys. Every one of you, even those I don't know are there. 

And sorry I didn't find my way back before this. 

I will try to stay this time. 

FYI

Just FYI, I'm not posting anything else til I get some indication that someone is reading these.

This is supposed to be a conversation, not a one sided monologue.

You can agree or disagree or whatever. But that's my line in the sand.

Validate me.

blog

I love the way my words look on the page, so smooth and pleasing and professional looking. I like looking at the final product. I like the formatting, green and pale and simple, though I have admired other formats too, and will experiment with them, playing with colour and images and style. The colour is clearly a factor as is the fact that the Blogger fairies format things and make it all beautiful, that all I do is write it and hit publish and poof, its perfect.

But for me the best thing right now is seeing my words on the screen, they flow down the screen, running off the bottom, and I am often surprised that I wrote so much. It feels like an accomplishment. A product. I love that they build up, accumulations of ideas that I have had. Flowing from my mind through my fingers and onto my screen.

I like this so far.

I am a little intimidated still by the need to be perfect. And only too aware that I'm not. My writing is stilted and stifled a little (no Sir, not by the knowledge that You will read it, because you have read millions of my thoughts, billions of my words, you know me through my words, and writing to you doesn't intimidate me). Its the idea of writing for posterity I think. Silly. Anyone reading what I write will be reading it because they like what I write, like reading the way I write, so I should just relax and do it. Perhaps though, the fact of the smooth green perfection it turns into intimidates me a bit, making me feel like the content should be significant or brilliant or amusing.

In the meantime though, I like what it has become, is becoming. Mine.