Jul 09

It’s been a minute

As I write this, my area near Portland, Oregon is experiencing record breaking high temps. Because 15 months of  unprecedented situations begs for just a few more. 

I promised myself I would prioritize my writing this month. One of my writing goals is to share something with readers daily. It’s the 28th of this month so you see how that’s been going. Anyway … 

It’s startling to me to see that after 16 years of regular posts on my site and a decade-ish of published newspaper columns and essays, my last post was in January. Of 2020. I guess I needed a minute. 

I’ve been writing a lot in my journals and on works in progress but the sharing of my writing with others came to an abrupt halt. Some of you know why; and I’ll explain more as I go here because I think I’ve gotten to the root of it. 

It may be magnified by the heat but there is so very much I’m annoyed by right this moment – like I can’t figure out how to make this image an actual circle. I don’t know how to fix my blog to have all the links work correctly. I don’t remember if I’m supposed to be posting on my wordpress site *which sucks but I paid for and now don’t know how to fix, or directly on the my site … like who is actually in charge here? I have a lot of Googling and learning ahead of me for things to look and work the way I want them to, but I am choosing to begin again anyway because, well, I want to. I am ready to move forward toward my dreams and calling, out loud – even though I don’t know exactly what I’m doing and how I’m going to do it. Something about leaping and nets comes to mind. 🙂 

I can’t quite describe how good it feels to have found my voice again. Even if I’m starting with a little whispered hello – I’ve missed you. 

I’ve missed me. 

I think I have found my way back. 

I say I think I have because this self recovery journey I’ve been wandering the last few years has me back at home, but it doesn’t look the same at all. There are familiarities but you know how when you visit your hometown, things are different. You can point to all the landmarks and there are memories both bitter and sweet – but nothing is really all the way the same. In therapy it’s called growth, but sometimes it looks like things are missing and different because, of course, they are. Same. And different. 

And good. 

More soon – I think. I’m pretty sure. 

Love,

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