Blogging My Way Home

It had been a long time since I'd thought about how hard blogging was for me, in the beginning, but when I decided that I wanted to start this blog, I remembered.  

I remembered how I didn't want anyone to know about that first blog or read what I had written.  I remembered how I decided to hide it. Or at least hide it from everyone I knew.  Doing that wasn't hard for me.  I had been hiding things all my life.  To just keep on hiding suited me just fine.

While I eventually got comfortable with other people reading my first blog and my author blog and my other online content - all my old insecurities came rushing back when I decided to blog on my experience in the new age and the events that led to it.  But I did want to do it.  Partially because I felt isolated, but mostly because I have always worked things out through writing.  

So I wrote here and in my journal.  And the more I did that, the more I felt that I might want to write something longer someday.  

So I revisited my old orphaned blogs and forgotten poems and half finished manuscripts.  I thought about all the false starts and the writing that I had loved, then hated.  I saw those fragments, those bits and pieces stretching across the entire course of my life like stepping stones in the dark.

And I knew that following them had saved me. 

When, or even if, I'll tell that story in full is debatable but I think this is a good place for me to start.