I’m not going to lie, I’m afraid to write this post.
I’m afraid that I might be posting at a time when I am super enthusiastic about a lot of things — my job, my newly adopted city, life changes, re-connecting with old friends.
But I am also afraid that I will start and then stop. Afraid that I will lose steam, lose momentum. Give false hope. Let people (myself) down in some way.
I am afraid that I might be writing to escape. I don’t think I am, but I’m not prepared to say that I am not. Even less prepared to say that things will be like they were before. Today, I make no promises.
I might be back. I might not. Reese might be back. She might not.
Now that I have sufficiently lowered your expectations and shared my current truth, did you miss me/we/us? I/we (maybe) (actually) missed you.
Returning to regular blogging is something we talk about, often, but haven’t quite acted on together.
Reese is deep in dissertation land. (Body roll for seeing the light at the end of the dissertation tunnel.)
I will leave it to her to tell you what she wants to tell you about her life, now. When she gets ready, in her own time, if ever at all.
Me? Last month, I wrote two whole blog posts that I haven’t posted yet. Why? Because I was feeling a bit shy. Truth be told I felt/feel rusty.
My voice doesn’t sound the same in my head when I’m writing. It’s my voice, but different. My voice, but wiser? More cautious? It’s complicated, I guess.
But the thoughts, the ideas — they keep arriving in my head when I least expect them. Uninvited. OK, occasionally invited.
The things I want to blog about keep flooding my brain. Case-in-point: It is 1:30 in the morning and I have an assignment at city hall in about eight and a half hours.
I. can’t. sleep. because. I. want. to. BLOG! Wanting to blog feels great. Wanting to blog feels terrible. (I’m sleepy, and I SHOULD) go to bed.
Instead, I write. And I wrote this post for you, and you and definitely you. But also for me. And for Reese.
Definitely for me.
I’m not back.
But I am (we are) still here.