Quilt

I’m sitting here wrapped in the quilt my grandmother made for me when I was in high school and feeling a bit reticent about this blog and the posts I’ve made so far. I feel vulnerable even though, chances are, no one is reading this at all except for the friends and family, writing buddies, and acquaintances I’ve emailed the link. I don’t know which is worse—having people who know me read these posts or complete strangers. Chances are the former group is about as familiar as the latter with the random thoughts that drift through my mind and the experiences and struggles I’ve had in my life. 

So, I’m feeling a little over-exposed at the moment—and I’ve barely started—which brings me to the core reason I’m doing this blog. I’m trying to regain my enthusiasm for life, both life in general and my life specifically (feeling even more vulnerable now, readers and I can’t seem to stop myself).  On good days, I want to fall in love with my life again. I’m thinking that writing (lifelong interest) will give me a handful of purpose and fulfillment outside of going to work every day and taking care of my cats, Galinda and Zuko, and mothering my daughter who doesn’t want or need much mothering these days. 

Even if no one reads this blog, I’m broadcasting my intentions to begin again, to try, and that is important.