Once upon a time, I would have to pace myself, blogwise. I had all these great ideas, and far too many words just itching to leap out of my brain and onto the screen. I actually would have several days’ worth of posts stacked up and scheduled, because sometimes I couldn’t suppress the urge to write and I didn’t want to go all manic and post several times per day.
That stopped, very abruptly, two years ago. When all I could think about, all I could experience, was illness, then every post started to slide toward that low spot – just like water pooling at the lowest point in a yard. The posts would pile up there, and sometimes I could gather them together and shine them up and make them fit for human consumption… but not always. And over time, the urge to post just faded away completely. I left the blog active so I could post when I wanted to, but i wasn’t sure if it would ever become a sanctuary for me again.
And it’s not a sanctuary for me again. Not yet. But today, I had things to say. I wanted to write: not to tell a story or document an event I might otherwise forget, but just to write. To admit that a topic has grabbed me by the brain, and to follow it wherever it wants to take me rather than just letting the interest fade away.
That felt good. I don’t dare get hopeful, to promise more blog posts or even hint that I would like to write more. Failure hurts more when I know I didn’t have to set it up in the first place.
But I can appreciate that it was good, today. It’s a start.