This is not my first attempt at a blog. It's probably my 4th or 5th. I'm not sure. I've lost count. Blogging just always seemed a natural thing for me to do. I love writing. I think I'm okay at it. So why not? Except that every blog I've ever written I've lost interest in. Within 6 months it would just fade off into cyberspace. I'm sure most of them still exist "out there," but I'm not sure how to find them. Either way, they're quite irrelevant now, because they didn't inspire me. They didn't mean anything. They were just meaningless words on a screen.
My hope is that this time it will be different. It feels different already.
In the past it was about writing in a niche; book blog, teacher blog, travel blog. Trying to reach a lot of people. Trying to be funny. Being quirky or on trend. This time, I don't really care who reads this. If anyone. This time it's only about putting my heart on a page.
This space is born from a very selfish place. In the past 4 months, I've learned that nothing has helped me cope, or helped me feel more connected with my son, than sitting alone in his room and writing. If not every day, then every other day, I've spent time here, on this floor, in his room, writing. Writing when I'm sad. When I'm missing him. When I feel alone. And when I feel hopeful. When I've dared to feel happy, or optimistic. I've written posts for social media and posts for my private journal. A journal that has transformed into one long letter to my boy. Every entry, every post, is different. But every one makes me feel the same: peaceful.
I'm starting this blog first, for me. So I have something positive to focus on after a long day at work. A great fear of mine when returning to work was that I'd lose the quiet time alone I had with Ryan while I was off on leave. It was a time in the day I so looked forward to. It was the part of the day when I would do my most healing. A part that would quiet the restlessness and anxiety I often felt (and still feel). The thought of losing that time scared me. Going back to work meant I needed to carve out time. And now, when I come home from work, I get dinner on the table, enjoy some conversation with Rich, and then slip away for a bit for these moments that have come to mean so much to me.
There's another part of me that hopes maybe this page will reach someone who needs it. Since September I have found my way to so many uplifting and supportive places online. I know I would be pretty proud if this ends up as one more such place. Even if it's only for one person.
Like my gratitude challenge, I want to challenge myself to think about the things I avoid; to see beauty and light when it's easier to see darkness and pain. I have a goal to put myself on a path to really connect with something, some moment, every day instead of just letting the days pass until I get where I want to be.
This time, this blog will be different from the rest. This time I've found my niche. It's a little corner of cyberspace where my happiness, sadness, grief, and hope can live together. It's a place to help me focus on living and not just existing. It's a place for my heart.