A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a pretty vulnerable piece based on what was happening n my life. It was raw, and necessary, and I am so thankful for the outpouring of support that I received in its wake. Seriously, thank you.

In the wake of that, life returns to a version of normal. I’m back in the rhythm, but more aware, or trying to be. And I promised byself that I would keep writing. But when I put pen to paper this time, my first real thought was, “What now?”

What now that I have expressed what was happening at such a rickety time? Where do I go from there that feels right and sincere?

I think the answer is that I can’t fall back into old habits of being witty instead of being open. When I write, it shouldn’t be about a quick quip. That’s not as satisfying as a deeper truth.

So here’s what’s now:

Now I let myself be vulnerable. I let what I put on the page be honest, open, and, yes, vulnerable. I can’t guarantee it will be pretty, or that I’m going to come acrss as some great motivational force. That’s not what I’m aiming for. I hope whatever it is that crawls out of my brain and onto the page is hreard and appreciated by someone, somehwere, but I’m not going to airbrush my viewpoint so it comes across as wisdom.

So here’s my promise, and my truth:

  • My hair’s bound to be a mess
  • I will drink too much coffee, and practice less often than I think I should
  • I will be awkward at social events, and break glassware frequently
  • I’ll be weird, and imperfect, and vulnerable
  • I’ll be me

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