Dec 11, 2015

Rust


I had to disappear for a while. 

I had to slip away into a quieter season that asked for nothing more than two kids in bed at night and two cups of coffee in the afternoon.

The internet can be such a loud place, and you ever feel like engaging it somehow invites noise into your own brain? I needed hush. I needed to get comfortable with those silent, sacred spaces without always needing to talk them out.

But funny story... the quieter I've become, the more Unnecessary Things I've cut away from my time, the more words bubble up inside me again. I miss words. I miss writing like an old friend. So I'm working it in again but I can feel how rusty I am. Even now there are things wanting to be said, metaphors wanting to be recognized, and I can't seem to catch them. Putting feelings into words that make sense to myself and other people... I'm still oh-so-unsure of the Why and the How and especially the When.

Half of me wants to disconnect from technology and internet completely, hoard up in a corner with a journal and some books.

Half of me hungers for communicating... privately, personally... even publicly.

The last half of me just worries I'll say something really dumb.

In any case, here I am again and I got a Chromebook just for this so there ain't no turning back now.

Oddly enough, I was browsing old posts and read about that time I was the Bad Mom at the park. Moral of that story (other than setting really nice, low expectations) was to be okay with starting over when necessary. So I suppose writing here is my tiny little hill that feels like too much effort and too much risk and too many eyes and too many other kids doing wheelies. Since writing that post, however, I've watched Annika shape her inhibitions into fuel for challenge. Girl may be a scaredy cat sometimes but she is brave. Capital B, Brave. So I can at least give it a shot, get those wheels turning.

Also, the thing about low expectations. 

I saw on Instagram recently: Do what feeds your soul, not your ego. And for sure - writing is some soul feeding stuff if I ever knew it. Story-telling. Life-sharing. Gospel-talkin'. Catching the metaphors and unwrapping those truths in the small things. 

I know I need it. 

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