Someone mentioned the 13th of May to me the other day. An appointment or a meeting — a doctor’s appointment, maybe. The date struck a chord, but with my amnesiac goldfish memory, I couldn’t remember why I was supposed to remember the date.
I knew it was something. Which is almost, but not quite, helpful.
Then, out of the blue, I got a pingback on a post I wrote nearly six years ago. Oh speed! Be still, lest you dizzy me. And it hit me.
May 13th: my bloggerversary.
It’s not as though I still blog or anything, this post notwithstanding. But it was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away and while it would not be entirely true to say I miss it, I do cherish a special form of nostalgia for the days when I poured out my anguished heart in front of all of you.
It always came sometime around a specific local national holiday. The first “Emerging on the Other Side” post was written as a result of a crushing blow to my heart from the man who I then believed was my true love and my soul mate. He wasn’t, obviously. At the time, however, this was not something of which you’d have any joy in trying to convince me. It was only six months later, when i suddenly realised that everything was somehow always all about him, that the scales fell from my eyes and I healed.
This was back in 2005. Nine years down the line and I’ve progressed a lot. The past decade has been a journey of self-exploration and discovery for me, and the truth is that it really did begin with the blog. The events about which I wrote were the catalyst. The blog was my walking stick, my propeller, the magnet which pulled me forward.
I no longer need to blog. The creative outlet that once I craved I now have as part of a daily personal and professional routine; something I couldn’t and wouldn’t have envisaged way back then.
I have met new people — and shared air space with old friends — finally!
I am happier in myself, both personally and professionally.
My sex life is much improved, and I no longer feel the need to explore. I rule nothing out, of course, but I am no longer a slave the the elusive “must-do”. I know who I am, sexually speaking, and while I continue on that particular journey of fun and excitement, it is no longer the driving force in my life, For which I am grateful — there are only so many wild oats that one can actually sow.
They say you can’t go home again. In a way, this blog is a part of my home. I can come back, but really only to visit and say hi.
So hi. It’s been real.
Minx, signing out.