Seriously, as I began this post, I had to think really hard about an adjective that starts with B. Not all blog posts flow easily. I rather prefer when they do, but it just isn’t so.
I shared a secret last night with four of my dearest friends. Only one of them knew about this secret, and she only by happenstance. These women know my children stories, my relationship tales, and that I color my hair, but I had never shared this out loud.
We were out for a girl’s night, having a leisurely dinner together, just completely enjoying being together. I casually mentioned that I finally started this blog. Surprised looks around the table, and then the questions. “How do you do a blog?” “What do you write about?” “I didn’t know you liked to write”.
It is no exxageration to say that I flat out adore these women. We’ve been friends for years. When I think of all they know about me and how much I know about each of them, it’s amazing. so why would I have kept something so dear to me, a cherished passion, a secret?
It took me a long time to finally do this thing, despite being a faithful journaler forever. I can’t explain the blogging thing at all. I’m only just beginning this journey, so all I really know so far is that I feel a mixture of joy and relief when I write. Publishing my thoughts without someone editing them is a freedom that is exhilarating. I’m aware that people read them sometimes, but it’s really more about me getting it out of me than anything else. Wow, that sounds selfish. Maybe it is.
It seems, though, like such a pure way of saying who I really am. That may be it. When I re-read my posts, I believe myself. It’s really me. Not in secret.