No, not you. Shut up, Elsa.
I haven't updated this blog in a long time, and I've had a few reasons.
Writer's block can be quite the beast, as I've documented in a few of my posts.
It's been hard knowing what's safe to write, too. I know that sounds completely ridiculous, but I've had little ideas here and there on pieces I want to write about, but then I stop myself, in fear of scrutiny. It's difficult to let yourself speak up when it seems like every action and word has a potential to rip you to shreds. I've lightly posted about it before, but it can be a bit of a hindrance. So much to the point where I say, fuck it. It's not worth the agitation.
I've been undergoing a lot of life changes, especially recently. Change can be exciting, but it also has its unnerving moments.
My mother passed away on January 12, 2014. At the age of 54, she succumbed to the deadly disease of addiction. I'm disconnecting from the fear of judgement for a moment, because the stigma is part of the reason why her recovery was so fucking difficult. However, I can take solace in knowing she isn't in pain anymore.
The home I grew up in is undergoing some changes, too. The kitchen is getting remodeled, and so is the bathroom. It's oddly surreal to think I won't be jabbing myself in the head on the corner of that stupid cabinet anymore. It's also weird to know I'll be leaving there for the last time soon.
Deep cleaning mode, sifting through 25 years worth of stuff and things. Cleaning out the literal closets, and laying the proverbial skeletons to rest. Some memories I find are confusing. I never knew we had these dishes. The newspaper it's packed in is dated 1993. Huh. Some memories I find are laughable. Of course they would have kept all of my softball shirts. Some memories I find are delightfully surprising. Hey, I found my ghosty lights! Some memories I find give me chest pains as I put up a fight with the tears that well up and threaten to fall from my eyes. Goddamnit, Mom.
The show must go on. And so I persist. Donate, trash, keep. Repeat.
My sanity is fueled by my darling mister, goofy conversations, and insane amounts of coffee.
As I type this, I occasionally glance at the dog who has been sleeping at my feet for the past 7 months. We got Lucy about ten years ago, soon before our first dog, Molly died. I wistfully ponder what her new family will be like. I walk away from the computer, heat up a bagel, and give the other half to Lucy.
Somewhere in me is a small girl, frantically clutching her tattered blankie, desperate to preserve what she knew.
The logical part in me knows that's not how life works, and it's ridiculous to be stagnant.
It is nice to get a sense of closure, an end to that chapter in my life. Okay, Katie. It's time to start your new, beautiful life, now. The pieces won't pick up themselves, you know.
And speaking of closure, it's time to put this "blog" to an end. Maybe I'll tackle on other writing stuffs whenever it strikes my fancy, but yeah. This is a dead project.
TL;DR- Closure.
