there ain’t language for the things I feel

I would like to think I'm smart enough to know that people don't really read blogs regularly these days. That I don't need to write for anyone but myself, and just to do it because I enjoy it. But I also know myself well enough to know that there is grace to be found when I am wrong, and I can change my mind and pivot when I want and need to.

Hi! Welcome.

Who...am I talking to? Probably just myself. I've missed writing so much, if I'm honest. I've missed the things that make me ME if I'm even more honest. The woman I am, have always been, and have yet to become. I am rediscovering her, and building a foundation for the future me. I am an internal processor, so it takes me a while to marinate on thoughts and answers and feelings. I need time to figure that ish out. Writing has always always always been such a helpful tool in that. In our social media day and age, I always felt as though I needed to write for someone else. Everyone else. I needed to monetize every single idea. Put ad banners on the sides of this page, make an instagram, cultivate influence, amass thousands followers.

Bull. Shit.

I want to write for myself. I'm taking back the notion that I "have" to do something a certain way, or learn the rules and play the algorithm game. I don't need a DSLR camera or facetune(?) or a perfect body or sponsored content to do something I love. To show bits and pieces of my life. My process. Will I doubt myself? Absolutely. Will impostor syndrome permeate my mind and make me second guess? You betcha. But I am so gosh dang tired of waiting for everything to be perfect before I begin. I am so tired of being afraid to fail that I stay frozen in comfortable fear.

So here it is. The beginning of something new that isn't really that new. Here's to taking the leap, sharing my thoughts, feelings, and life.