Today marks my sixth anniversary. Blogiversary, if you will.
It simultaneously seems impossible that I've been doing it for that length of time and more real than anything else I've ever known to be true.
This is who I am, and yet it is something I have spent almost no time on of late.
I'm distracted, but in the best way possible.
I long ago gave up rushing the early moments of my children's lives, urging the next stage and milestone. I have learned that they grow up so fast, that they are little for such a brief time, that I have to linger here for as long as they will allow me to.
And so I am.
There are moments that I want to retreat somewhere alone and let the thoughts out of my head, but my reality isn't compliant with that at this time, and truthfully I am accepting of this place.
Welcoming of it, really.
I never thought I would be here again. I was sure I wouldn't, actually, if I am being completely honest.
I was wrong.
Then again, I've been wrong about a lot of things in my lifetime, and that wrongness has so often urged the words I've written here. The lessons I've learned, the things I thought I knew and proved to be wholly ignorant about, they are the stories I've tried to tell more than any other.
This life is a journey, one where we are constantly learning and evolving and reassessing everything we think we already know.
Six years ago, I started this blog as a different person entirely.
I hardly even recognize her, though her face bears a good deal of resemblance to mine now.
I thought I had a story to tell then. In truth, the majority of what I wrote was mindless, letters strung together just to fill a page. I thought I'd learned so much about life, about loss, about hope and fear, about forgiveness and trust.
I'd learned so very little and had so many lessons waiting for me.
I had no appreciation for that at the time, of course, because we can never know what we haven't yet learned.
In those six years, I've seen things I never imagined I would. Lost people, lost relationships, lost friends, lost family. I've had my heart broken more than a few times by more than a few people. I've lost my own way, traveled down the darkest path I've yet walked, then emerged from that tunnel in part because of this.
Because of writing.
It saved me.
More than once.
There are not many bloggers out there who do this for as long as I have. I joke that I'm a dinosaur because I've been at it for so many years, stubbornly refusing to give up this thing that so often keeps me sane.
I write not because I want to, but because I have to.
And sometimes I don't write for the very same reason. I've learned that too.
Those are just two of the greatest lessons I've learned in these six years.
I keep saying that I want to work on my books, the ones that I've outlined, the ones that are halfway finished, the ones I am collaborating with other writers on. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, they say.
I'll get there. Eventually.
Just like I'll get back to writing here more consistently. Eventually.
For now, though, I am content to be living this phase of my life that I believed was behind me.
And content is a really, really good place to be.
Thank you all for your love and support, for your friendship and your kindness, for your loyalty and your help, for your love and concern. Thank you for reading the words that I write, for taking what I put out there into the universe and hanging on to it, even if only for a moment. Thank you for joining me.