It has been over a year since my last post. There are 22 entries in my drafts.
Sometimes, after time has passed, I feel like I should just push publish on those pending posts, just to get them out there; even though they wouldn’t be current. I can’t remember what I wrote, though, so I probably won’t.
That being said, I have been toying (obviously not anything consistent) with writing online, again.
I have been writing online in some way, shape or form for a long, long time. (I’m an “internet grandma” as I saw on another blog I was flipping through, today.) My first website was published back in 1997 and I was obsessed with writing online after that first time I hit publish.
(I will let you know, that after writing that last sentence? I spent considerably way too much time at archive.org, jumping from website to website; some of the domains, I had completely forgotten about. Strange how that happens.)
The picture below? Me in 2000, that I found from going to another friend’s blog link on archive.org. Not my natural hair color, but not bad, either. :) I’m in my friend LeAnn’s dorm room (I didn’t think it looked like mine and had to inspect!) I would have been 21.
I heard somewhere that people never change – they are the same persons at the core. And it’s true…there’s a lot of that twenty-one year old in me, still, at thirty-seven.
I had toyed with becoming a vegetarian, for like, a month, which I laughed a bit about, because that is such a “me” thing to do. I was dating my now-husband long-distance, which we ended up doing for way longer than I ever anticipated. I spent way too much time online. I even saw mention of my beginning love of interior design (and paint colors!). I was so dreamy/optimistic about living a creative life.
I wonder what the twenty-one year old me would think about the thirty-seven year old me.
I see patterns in how I deal with things. How I force myself to continue with something that I’m not sure of, because I don’t see options for myself.That someone else should have noticed I was struggling, rather than myself pointing out a a weakness and asking for help and potentially showing that I wasn’t perfect. And instead, getting called on it when it was too late.
I cursed my sensitivity. My emotions getting the best of me; how easily I am hurt or scared or end up crying and feeling embarrassed. My need to center myself, alone, so I could somewhat reframe whatever it was that hurt me, so that I could function, again – tell myself that it didn’t hurt so much. That I wasn’t hurt so much.
I see thoughts that I projected onto other people that I could completely project onto myself, now. About being brave – about taking risks – about the choices we make – about the excuses we make. The “I can do this, only if I have this…” bargains that we make with ourselves – and then you get that thing that we absolutely need, we find another excuse. I had a girl friend who did this constantly and I found it incredibly annoying, at the time.
I thought I had it all figured out – like, of course, we all do at that age. I can see, in retrospect, where I took risks and where I needed to risk, but didn’t. Perhaps if I had, my life would be different, now, if I had made different choices; perhaps, maybe it wouldn’t. The thing is, we never know. But, I can tell you, when you think about the risk in the present, you always go to the most positive outcome. It’s funny how that is, isn’t it?
So, I find it odd that while I’ve been thinking these things in my head, over the past few weeks, not writing; tonight, when I take the time to write, all these things come to me, in my own voice, just reconfirming everything I had been tossing around in my head.
I’ve talked before about messages from the universe. I won’t go into it, but I think I needed to revisit my past a bit, tonight. Rehash some old things, reflect on some newer, unrelated-but-somehow-related, things. Make peace with my past and determine things I need to change in the present.