Beginning again
I’ve been here before, but it has been such a very long time. Years, actually. There have been half-hearted attempts in between, but nothing that stuck or felt true. Once I was writer, but when life got too hard and things fell apart, I couldn’t bear to write anymore. Good writing made the feelings too real. The thing about being able to dissect emotions and thoughts and concepts with words is that sometimes it makes the edges too sharp, to dangerous to handle. Instead of learning to handle the sharp pieces, I ran from the pain of clarity and refused to acknowledge my emotions at all, other than to shut them down, rather than let the pain bleed free. I’ve decided that after three, almost four years of this running, I can’t do it anymore. As hard as it is to try and open my heart again, it is just as hard, or harder, to keep it closed.
So welcome. Welcome to my little page of longing. Longing for a place of home, of peace, of clarity. Of finding my place in this world where I can wake in the morning without longing for more sleep, where I can feel like my hard work has real meaning, where I can feel like my triumphs matter, my relationships are true, and where one day I might elicit some kind of positive change for someone else.
