What seems like forever ago, but has only been a handful of years… I used to blog. Regularly. More than regularly really, every day in fact. It was on a different site, by the same name and I had lots of folks who checked in with me whenever I posted a new something fun to read.
But the internet is a dangerous place, and I learned that you just can’t put your whole self out there. Like little red riding hood, you must be ever so careful of the wolves hiding within the forest. Blogging became a ruined place for me. I no longer felt safe within one of my favorite places of self-expression… and so, I deleted that chapter, quite literally. It’s now just shredded internet trash floating around in pieces like space junk through the world-wide web.
It was okay at first not to write. But I am a writer. As much as I must create visually, I must also create verbally. Take words and lace them together, hand-stitching vowels and consonants until they are harmonized in unison. I attempted journals… one notebook after another but I failed to make them a ritual. I found myself constantly writing in my own head, but what good are words that become forgotten or lost? So then I just didn’t write. And not writing at all felt like a motionless pool of water. Stagnant.
I. Need. To. Write. It’s who I am, I can not deny that part of me. So here I am. Baby deer on uncertain new legs, taking small steps one after another… after another… after another…
Everyone needs to wipe the chalkboard clean everyone once in a while and become a slab of fresh blank slate. Full of potential and untainted by what came before.