I am a writer

I started this blog thinking it would be therapy and nothing more, but have since made it public and invited an audience. Whether or not it is captivating enough to draw serial readers is really irrelevant to me since I am looking for something deep within me that nothing else has inspired. I was a writer, once upon a time, and even won an award for creative writing. A tragedy in my life took away my ability to write or create, but here I am.

I am turning 35 in September. Oh god, it is so painful to say and even worse looking at those evil numbers. I get insane around my big birthdays. 30 was a disaster for me, but once it came and went, I was fine. But 35 is headed my way and I have decided to take stock of my life and file away the things that may not be healthy for my psyche. The sober/email equivalent of the drunk dial is now going to be filed away as is my current relationship with my parents/family. I have a friend who is a certifiable lunatic. She manages to have every ailment, disease, affliction known to the medical community and still manages to smoke pot and cheat on her husband with his younger brother. In the file she goes.

The point is not to be a bitch or pass judgement on others, but instead to simplify my life, which has been extremely difficult for two decades now. I am going to love those who love me. I am going to trust those who trust me. I am going to learn my lessons so that they do not repeat. I am going to make it look easy, but admit when it is hard. I am going to ask for help and not trudge uphill alone. I have people that will do that with me and yet, I spend time trying to figure out why those who have left did so with such ease. Who cares, be gone. There is a fine line between building a wall and becoming/maintaining status as a healthy adult. I hope I can walk it.