Weird You Don’t Have To Press So Hard

Hello, dear readers.

I feel like I am writing a letter to a pen pal. A German pen pal. Only I don’t speak German. And Google Translate is just a touch off. Which makes this sort of awkward.

There is something so fitting about my discomfort though. You see, I spent years cultivating my blog. Sharing my stories. Connecting with others. It was woven into the fabric of my routine, of me.  But I let it fall away. Only it was abandonment by design. I prioritized a job, a “career,” over everything else (a topic I will delve into over the next few months).

For now, you need to know that I was afraid. I didn’t want my colleagues to find my blog, read it and judge me. Something I am simultaneously mortified and relieved to write down. It is by no means a revelation. That red flag bitch slapped me for months. My cheeks still smart. But I embraced some willful ignorance and threw myself into a storm of everything I abhor – fear, insensitivity, ridicule and cruelty.

So, I SHOULD be uncomfortable right now. I ought not be able to slip back into this blog as though I didn’t erratically jump ship. And please, don’t you let me. I need to forge my way back to honesty and introspection. To candor. To my people, virtual and otherwise. To this blog.

But for tonight…before the fear shuts me down and I power off, a brief sentiment…

I have problems. Mostly really, really good problems. For example, I am writing this on a new MacBook. And it’s an adjustment. After two years on my work laptop, equipped with a keyboard that required excessive pounding (particularly the letter E), I have to exercise a serious amount of self restraint. It’s just so weird. Not having to press hard. The letters come out. Like butter.

With that, I am off in search of a late-night sandwich. Did I not mention we had a fire in my building, so we are living in a hotel? So much catching up to do.

Until then, all the love and peace from my heart, to yours.

Peace.

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