I am not a blogger.
Let's just get this out into the open first hand because if you think I do this for a living, well, obviously not, considering my last post was 4 years ago. Here's the thing though, overlooking my poor grammar and my endless run on sentences, for which I am well known for, I am pretty good at reaching down into the depths of my own "bullshit" glove less, dirty and disgusting and just plain ole getting real.
I have endless notes on my phone. This has become tedious. And then I thought, just blog it, Jesus......!
When I clicked on the search bar for blogger.com it shot me directly to my old blog.... "poof". I have been here before, like an old one night stand reappearing in your life and you cant remember their name. I read the posts, written shortly after my 2nd divorce.
Crap.........
I don't recognize her.
Let's face it, she just doesn't exist in that form anymore.
I deleted all the posts.......except for one. It was worth keeping, like an old black and white photo, a snapshot of me in the past.
I redesigned my blog..a mountain in the background. It is fitting. We are all climbing mountains, pitted with valleys of green, steep faces without handholds, gentle inclines with loose gravel, where you cannot secure your footing, and well, maybe, interrupted by a few burning bushes of truth.
All the prophets of the past spent some time on a mountain, in a cave, retreating from people and the madness of the world. Self revelation, mind blowing truths, only to return with true wisdom and a bit of grey hair.
But let's face it....
What good is the wisdom if you don't employ it?
I get stuck.
I get stuck then I get mad.
Self defeating, and return full circle into the "WTF" stage.
Self deprecating, and self sabotaging habits that I know all to well.
So here I am on the mountain standing in the middle of an avalanche.
Yes standing.
My feet are cold.
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