I've been struggling a bit with what to write about. When i switched domain names i made a mental promise to not be a "mommyblogger" anymore. Sure i'll write about them sometimes, but not in detail. They are getting older now and i need to respect their privacy, let my children share what they want with the world. I had also grown tired of the "negative" words i seemed to read all over the place. I wanted this to be a place filled with hope, or at the very least have goodness at it's core.
Shane and i were talking the other night about writing and i expressed concern over ever writing anything that would hurt him. Hurting him is something i don't ever want to do again. But, that worry has held me back on a few ocassions from saying what i want. What i am feeling. Don't get me wrong, i don't want to come here and bitch every time we have a fight because, quite frankly, who wants to read that?
I guess i am in a strange place creatively because i am happy. I don't know how to write happy. I need two fingers left in a bottle of vodka, heart wrenching sadness and a broken heart to write the good stuff.
At least i thought i did. But that's just insecure bullshit.
I'm not sure where this state of emotional well-being is going to take my writing, but i'm going to figure it out. I know that my life is suddenly very good. That all the day to day problems are absolutely manageable. That i wake up happy every single day. That i am constantly in two uniforms - work clothes/running clothes - and even i am surprised by that. That the only thing we argue about is that cat up there who is actually quite an ass of a feline and whom shane keeps threatening to get rid of. But then i point out the rats he kills on a regular basis and we come to an impasse on the loud and annoying cat.
I know that this is a time to cherish and be thankful for.