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NaBloPoMo MoFos

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I stopped writing creatively when I killed my blog dead, stripping it off the internets completely. It was severe and I fucking regret it because I thought I downloaded it all but I can't figure out what to do with the file format it's in so it just sits there, a decade of my online words, locked away.

This is good, sometimes. I'm not who I was when I started that blog in 2004 and I sure as hell am not the person I was during the years I was chasing social media fame.

But as I've retreated from spending so much time on social media, I've been longing to write. Especially because everything is so awful, and everything is on fire including me because I'm in hot flash perimenopause hell. Half the time I feel completely depressed and the rest of the time I am lit with incandescent rage.

Everything is just so FUCKED.

A friend and colleague asked if I was going to try to write every day in November — like all we used to do back in the early days of blogging — and I found myself saying, okay, yes, YES LET'S DO THAT. I hope there are words in me to be found after a full day of writing for work.

The words are in there somewhere. They have to be.

It's going to take a bit to figure out my boundaries. I'm DYING to share here the way I used to but my heart is still too tender and beaten, and I'm not willing to carve myself open again. So what will I talk about?

Can I tell you about how amazing Tori has become, how smart and lovely and brilliant and funny?

Can I tell you how depressed I was in 2017, and how I didn't know how bad it was until Christmas dinner?

Can I tell you about how hard I've fought over this last year to get my family to a better home?

 

Can I tell you how great my marriage is, how Charlie is really working hard and does so much for this family and is basically the best husband ever?

Can I tell you how fucking weird it is to get old and have your parts be all fucked up and sore all the damn time and my GOD my elbow won't stop cracking?

Can I write the way my brain thinks, which is in these big weird sentences, even though I spend the whole workday truncating my tendencies as I try to cram information into snackable bits of content? Will the grammar police arrive if I don't keep my sentence structure tight?

I don't know. I don't even know if I can do this. But I'm gonna give it a fucking shot.

Here's how it's gonna be: these posts will be short or long. They will probably ramble. I'm not going to do a bunch of editing because this is just me trying to find my way again. Okay? Deal? Deal.

I've turned comments on. Let's go old school, people.

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