Wednesday, October 21, 2015
One Year Later...
I’ve spent the last year wanting to blog again (as I always say whenever a chunk of time quietly passes by around here), but, you know, life…
Whenever someone mentioned my blog or introduced me to their friend as a writer/blogger, I’d sheepishly mumble something about how I used to blog, how I used to write all the time, how I missed it, or how I just haven’t found time to get back into it. Weeks turned into months and months into a whole year and all the while my mind kept filling up with writing topics only to be emptied just as quickly by the mere thought of crafting a coherent sentence. After spending all day at the computer creating stories for other people, the last thing I wanted to do was write down my own. Still, I constantly wondered how the blogger community was doing these days. What happened to all those lives I used to follow? Was anybody even blogging anymore?
Last night I happened to pop on over to see if I had made the one year mark yet. I remembered my last post, a video interview for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, was published around the end of October and sure enough today was that day. And so I figured exactly one year later is as good a time as any to revive this old space. I’ve just published a new essay on my experience with breast cancer so at least I’d have that to share and slowly ease into this routine I once loved so much, I told myself.
But just like in 2008, when I first revived the blog because my life was a twisted mess and I had so much to say, I’d been craving this space for much of the same reasons. I initially thought I could saunter on in, dust the desk off, and whip up a few paragraphs about returning to the blogosphere (by the way, please tell me people don’t use that term anymore). Silly me. I should have known it wouldn’t come with its own emotional churning.
Dry As Toast was born out of my wish to write when no magazines were hiring me after I’d graduated journalism school in 2007. I told no one about it (aside from my sister) because it still seemed silly to keep an online journal as an adult. I tried to keep it going under wraps, but when there’s no community or feedback surrounding your words, the enthusiasm can die out fairly quickly. And so mine did. A year later, I found myself jumping right in, writing every single day, telling my friends about it, and eventually settling into a place that served as my virtual therapy. I poured so much of myself into this space - good, bad, confusing, inspiring, and devastating - that I’m sure you can imagine what it feels like to be back. It’s like opening an old diary and realizing that the feelings you had a decade ago have not changed much at all. Even worse is seeing how happy and hopeful the last several blog posts were and how different this year has felt.
In the past, reviving this blog has symbolized the beginning of a new chapter, and right now I don’t know that I even want to get over this mountain just yet. Even writing this is making my heart race because I know what will come if I start sifting through the things on my mind. I almost have to be in here with blinders on because I know that if I start digging, reading, remembering, longing, it will cause this knot in my throat to grow thicker.
So for now, I’ll just say…hello and that I missed this.