There is no good way to start picking up the pieces of an abandoned blog, or trying to organize old writing that is gathering dust. It’s not clear whether those previous entries served any good to anyone, so I had planned to remove them all and start afresh.
Then the thought occurred to me, that maybe someone out there, even just one person may have felt impacted by something I’d written. For the sake of that person alone, I’ll leave those embarrassing moments there.
So despite my sense of shame regarding past failures and mistakes, they are still there for the world to see. Unfortunately for my ego, they are available for ridicule and commentary. It will be excellent practice for my “people pleaser” nature to endure the bombing it ought to receive. As my husband would like to say, “You can’t please everyone. You’re not pizza.”
Even as an “adult” I’m still trying to figure out how not to care what other people think of me. While I’m getting better every day, I’m for sure probably going to still feel bad about that guy I accidentally cut in front of at the grocery store the other day so he yelled at me and it ruined the good mood I’d had to begin with.
I’m over it now, I promise.
…Baby steps.
I’m going to continue to build this place as a foundation for writing practice and expression. I will post some stories, some essays, and some unpleasantness, and perhaps some joy. I hope someone can find something meaningful in it.
Normally I’d say I hope it would bring someone joy, but I now think the search for happiness is overrated. It’s all about the search for meaningful experiences is life. For me personally, I’ll add it’s about impacting the people around me in a way that is good-natured and memorable. It’s probably why I was stressing about grocery store bro-causing pain or upset to someone else always makes me feel guilty and sad.
I get that it’s not a big deal. I’m sensitive.
That reminds me, every time you take it upon yourself to say “You’re too sensitive”, I’m going to send you an invoice for $1. Or you can save yourself the trouble and Venmo me first, then you can call me sensitive and continue to send funds as applicable.
I hope I can wrap up some previous experiences I’ve placed here, not only for the sake of the reader but also for my own timeline. Stories without continuity give me heartburn, and I’m loath to be guilty of this in my own narrative.