In Which She Emerges

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Last night, as I lay in bed listening to my sons giggling in the next room, my phone pinged notifying me that I had gotten a direct message from someone on FaceBook.  I very nearly ignored it as I was wildly enjoying 50 minutes of what the actual fuck known as “Florida Man,” but I paused and looked at it. I read 3 paragraphs written to me by a woman I have never met, telling me how much this blog meant to her, how empowering she found it, etc., and even though she hasn’t read it in a long time, she often thinks of it, of me, and is grateful for what I have put out into the world.

Shit.

I have been thinking about returning to writing for quite some time.  I think about it, I know I need to do it for myself, I say I’m going to do it, I intend to do it, I sit down to do it and then that voice started in:

  • That old blog?  REALLY?
  • No one will remember it or want to read anymore.
  • Do you really have anything to say?
  • SO much has gone on. Where would you even start?
  • Is Bob’s Burgers on?

It occurred to me that none of those things really matter (except Bob’s Burgers.)  I have always written for myself.  I would write on this blog, on another blog, on paper, on toilet paper if I felt the need to write.  I always have something to say.  Where would I even start?  Where I have always started everything: wherever the hell I want.

But really.  Wow.  Where do I want to start?  I guess I’ll follow what I always used to tell my yoga students: Be where your feet are.

I’m currently barefoot on my bed in an Aerosmith shirt, Prince playing loud, and the sunset is casting golden light through my window.  My sons are away for the night and my plans for the evening just fell through and I trying to decide if I care.  Pretty sure I don’t.  My 14th wedding anniversary is Monday and Brian is still dead.  That sucks.  My little family of 3 is flourishing and fabulous. That doesn’t suck.  My sons aren’t little anymore – one is way taller than me and the other is eye to eye. That is just bananas.

I feel like Edward Scissorhands, coming down from the hill for the first time, all freaked out and awkward.  These stupid “hi, I’m back” posts always irritate me, yet I feel compelled to publish one.  So much has changed… So much.  I’m a big fan of bullet points, so check it out.

  • I have more tattoos
  • I have less tolerance for bullshit and artificiality
  • I don’t teach yoga in a studio anymore (much more on that in the future)
  • I still have a home practice.
  • I have an increased level of loathing for bureaucracy
  • I don’t even remember the last time I drank bourbon
  •  Chronic pain and mysterious health issues aren’t nearly as fun and exciting as they sound
  • My three dogs are still enormous
  • I still like them better than I like you
  • Solid Gold is still not back on the air.

There will be more.  Until then, thanks for letting me pop my head out to make sure that the sky is still up and the ground is still down.

Thanks for holding down the fort.

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4 responses »

  1. Yours is the only blog I haven’t unsubscribed from so I’m glad your “back.” I ditched FB so I’m out of the loop (gloriously so). . . But then again I never felt in the loop on FB so what the heck. Had another son who is now 4 months old. The first son is turning two! I’m still taller. But not by much. Moving to Denver March 20th. I here you in my head sometimes telling me (well, everyone) to be where your feet are. I love that. So good on you for reminding yourself.

  2. Grateful to that lady and I’m so glad you gave us a bit of an update. Like her, I think of you often and wonder.. I’m so glad to hear your boys thrive, I hope you do too, or will. You are so special and so appreciated, by strangers! Not creepy, just your words effect, across the universe and the generations. I hope all things good for you, hope you are rocking to your music ( love your interviews with various bands) and hope your flying your own way.

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