Returning
I have not even written or typed anything remotely coherent since our little boys were 12-13 weeks old (my last post). I should have. I should have tried to cling to something that manages my nerves and grounds me like writing. In hind sight it does seem like a healthy thing to do. But I couldn't. The many reasons why I failed to write are numerous, but in all actuality I simply could not honor my story. It felt selfish. It felt awkward. However, I am going to be forty years old this coming year. In a spirit of all out celebration, I am devoting myself to doing what I want. I am cooking, I am writing, and I am definitly not sweeping my floors twice a day or engaging in anything that snuffs out my joy. So, by the time that birthday rolls around I want to find myself. Not in a life crisis kind of way, but in a great returning kind of way. Seven years ago my life was wrecked in the most beautiful way possible. Now, I live in a home surrounded by love and light. I have chi...