I’ve so largely neglected my writing space here. No matter how many times I told myself I would sit down and write, I would sit down and share. There were no words waiting to pour out of my fingertips.

Blogging and writing has become intimidating to me now that everyone is a writer of some sort on the internet. I worried about standing out. I worried about the timing of my posts and who my niche audience was. I worried more about the outside world than I did about the actual writing. Eventually I felt like I had nothing to say, nothing worthwhile, nothing that hadn’t been shared before. And while my intention was never to amass a large audience or to get paid, writing still felt overwhelming. So I stopped.

Christmas of 2019 I asked the kids to pick out a new journal for me. I was determined to write at least for myself. I started a little after the new year, even bringing the journal on vacation with me, and then the world stopped. Suddenly the chaos around me became the chaos inside of me. I put a cork in my mouth and shoved 2020 down. I stopped dreaming. I stopped believing. It felt as though I was holding my breath waiting to see what came next. No one knew.

Then by October it started to seem like the fog was dissipating. Slowly at first. Then by December I was on an all out mission to bloom again.

Healing is funny that way. You think you’re becoming when in reality you’re unbecoming everything you were taught over the course of your lifetime.

Now here it is the end of February 2021 and I can feel again. I’m dreaming again. I’m hoping again. I’m hungry for more and for newness. The layers are shedding. The wounds are mending. I’m no longer shrouded in armor. I’m ready to expand.

So, here I am.

No rules. No expectations.

I’ve never been one to follow the crowd or do as I’m told. And I’m not about to start now.

This is my little space, my blank page. I’m going to do as I please with it. I’m not going to try ‘blogging.’ I’m going to write. As simple as that. Whatever comes out. An essay. A poem. A rambling.

My words, my way.

Welcome to the next version of me.

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