Initially, I began this blog as an exercise, a way to spank myself into some sort of discipline when it came to writing on a daily basis. It didn’t so much matter to me that probably no one was actually reading it because that wasn’t the point. The point was to write, to unlock my words from the saved files on my computer and actually release them into the anonymous ether of the world, if only the cyber world.
Strange things tend to happen when one begins something on the premise of good faith. Process takes hold and evolution happens. Alongside my blog, my very own evolution was taking place. Since I first began blogging, I’ve dipped off the radar a few times. Particularly while writing a thesis with one hand and treading my way through life’s turbulent waters with the other. I couldn’t have possibly known back when I set out to write every day that huge, catastrophic life changes were in store. Among those changes were (but not limited to) a painful and grueling separation from my husband, finishing grad school and subsequently throwing myself into major debt and the decision to quit my job of nearly ten years. I needed a new start so I left Italy where I lived for the duration of my twenties to recommence at age thirty-something. In New Zealand. In a nutshell, that, right there, is where you’ll find me on the ever-varied map of status quo: divorced, emotionally bruised but healing, over my head in debt, in a totally new country that seems to want to drown me with its continual rainfall. Oh and, I’ve gained thirty pounds in the process. Yikes.
Given the disarrayed, unorganized, overweight and ghastly state of my life I wasn’t even remotely considering coming back to face myself through my blog, much less put my chubbier, post-failed marriage of a self out there for the larger community of would-be readers woven throughout the World Wide Web. No effing way, Jose. No thanks. I was more inclined to just let my blog stagnate there right where it was, lingering and listless in some cob-webbed corner of internetdom.
Then a good friend of mine asked me to start a blog while making this move to New Zealand. I scoffed at the thought. I just didn’t think my unkempt, imperfect life was of much interest. Most likely it just isn’t. But seeing as how I started this sucker for habit’s sake anyway, I thought, Why not? I’m not really even sure if this is actually the kind of blog you had in mind, Rach, (maybe you had hoped for more pictures/less words) but to tell you the truth, was not the kind of blog I initially had in mind either. It began as one thing and then as life happened, it took its own persona. Now that I actually have a few readers out there listening, it has even begun to play a new role, the role of an encouraging whisper.
I think about this blog and the people who read it—especially the people I don’t even know who are reading it—and it encourages me to continue, even on the rainiest of days. No one gets a perfect ride in this life. All the more reason to write about it, in my humble opinion. Perhaps writing about it makes the imperfect nature of life more palatable. Or maybe it lessens the blows of disappointment. I’m not sure. But I do think it’s important to tell the truth. It is what I try to do, always, when I write. So thank you dear reader friends out there for listening to this particular truth; my truth. I hope you are enjoying your own ride, wherever you may be. Much love.