hello, it’s me
Hello again. I’ve missed you.
Earlier this month, exactly two years since my last post, I got the urge to write here again. Actually, that’s not quite the entire truth. I’ve had urges to write, but the content I wanted to write about didn’t seem quite right for this open space. I turned to journaling instead, something I always go back to when my anxiety is high or in times of crisis. But earlier this month, I wanted to share openly again. I wanted to come out of hiding and be vulnerable in public, the way I used to be in this space.
When I sat down to write that day, though, I learned my blog had a flaw on the back end, some error that occurred sometime in the last year or more. The comments at the bottom of any given post were not linking up to the right post. I reached out to my hosting company, and then, through them, to a website developer. During those couple of weeks while I was trying to sort out the issue, I realized (again) how much I love and miss this space. I’ve not written here for two years, but now that I couldn’t actually write here because of website issues, all I wanted to do was write. Journaling has filled some of that void, but it really isn’t the same as posting here. I’m not sure how or when the glitch happened, but it’s now fixed, and my sense of relief has surprised me.
I do wonder whether anyone is still here to read my words. Two years is a long time for people to stick around, waiting.
I used to be able to count on my mom to be my eternal reader and blog cheerleader. I used to hit publish on a post and within minutes of sharing it on my personal Facebook page, she would have shared the post on her own page so that her friends could see. Almost without fail, she would call me that evening or within the next 24 hours to talk to me about what I wrote, or to just let me know she liked it. I could always count on her. Until I couldn’t.
She is always on my mind these days, and I find myself forcibly turning my thoughts to something else, anything else.
Work is a wonderful distraction and has filled my life with meaning and purpose. I’ve been spending time nurturing my son’s horticulture interests, shopping at Home Depot with him for potting soil or seeds starting kits or looking at Instagram accounts filled with beautiful houseplants and succulents in perfectly lit living rooms. My daughter is in the thick of high school theater, and we just hosted about 35 high school kids for the fall show (Seussical!) cast party on Friday night. That was a great diversion and my kitchen is still overflowing with trays of cookies and bags of popcorn. I’m traveling for work fairly regularly, and we had some lovely family vacations this year. I have a solo trip in the works for early 2020, a vacation where I hope to jumpstart my creative side again. That trip is a gift to myself, and it has given me such pleasure to daydream about. I’m burying myself in two books at any given time, preferably fiction. Right now, I’ve got Alice Hoffman’s The World That We Knew on my Kindle and Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows on Audible.
I have become skilled at distraction.
So, hello again. I think I’ll be back to share more in the weeks ahead. I intend to. It won’t be pretty and happy and shiny, because that’s just not real life. But it will be real, and it will be me.
From one lapsed blogger to another…..I’m here and I see you : )
Thanks, Wendi. It made me so happy to see your sweet comment.
I’m here. And I’m thrilled to see you writing again. No need for pretty and happy and shiny. You write what you need to here, in this space that’s yours. XO
Thank you so much, Mardi.
Nice to see you here 🙂
I read this when you posted it but the comments weren’t working. Your words have stayed with me though so I came back to try again. We lost my mom almost 14 months ago. It’s so strange the things that make me miss her deeply. Times I would have called her most especially. She wouldn’t have been able to fix any of things but she would have answered the phone. She would have known. It still breaks me and your words just felt so familiar when I read them I wanted to say that to you.
I am so sorry about your mother’s death. I hope you’re finding some comfort and peace in your memories and in small daily joys.