Holds breath…

Hitting publish is scary, no matter how many times you do it. This time is no exception.

Eight months ago, I was informed by my web hosting provider that my four websites had been deleted from their servers thanks to inaction on my part. I had been in the throes of moving across the country with the gang in tow, battling bronchitis, starting a new job, and commuting 160 miles total after a 10-11 hour work day EVERY DAY.

I saw the original notification that I needed to renew my subscription, put it on my to do list and promptly forgot about it. So, after 30 days, the provider deleted my account. And all of my posts.

That’s four years of content.

I was distraught. All of my hard work, dedication, blood, sweat and tears went into those sites. My author website? *POOF* My book blog site that I fretted over all of 2013? *POOF* This blog? *POOF* Out of all of the content I lost, this blog hit me the hardest. It was my place of comfort–where I could test my voice and not worry about judgement.

And it was all gone.

That was eight months ago. For about three months, I was in denial. I stopped writing. And to be fair to myself, I wouldn’t have been able to write if I could have. I was dealing with what my doctor and I thought (at the time) was Fibromyalgia. I was in a constant state of flare ups . I could barely text, let alone write blog entries.

But then I realized I had hit a mental block. I wasn’t writing because I was depressed. For the past year, my world had been crumbling around me. So I tried to push through it. Wrote two more chapters in my latest WIP. Renewed with my web host (and set up auto-pay). Continued to work on my side business.

But I still couldn’t hit publish on a post. I drafted, redrafted and emailed to myself with the promise that I would post later. And later never came.

Today, I felt like I was underwater. I didn’t want to be at my day job. One of my bosses was there and I could feel her wondering what the hell I was doing behind my desk (which will be in front of hers by the end of the year, so that should be fun). Honestly, I was just staring at email, answering a few here and there. By 1:30, I got bored with that and started surfing the net instead (something I never do). By 3, I had a headache and despite doing my requisite neck stretches and a power walk, my muscles were very tight. At 3:30, I said screw it and grabbed my laptop, my water and my phone. I headed to our very large cafeteria, plopped down, opened Notebook and here I am.

There’s so much to update you on. From my health to the move from California to Illinois to my beautiful, amazing daughter who is now 17 months old (“Dat?” is her favorite word). And I’ve discovered that I have about 10 posts saved from the past four years, so I’ll upload those into an archive category for those interested.

I guess I’m at a place in my life of rebuilding. Healing. Moving on. From the bad stint in CA. From the crap job in CA. From the crap apartment in CA (which I didn’t realize was crap into we got our sweet apartment here and we were both like HO-LEY SHIIIIIT). From the original diagnosis of Fibro to my current one. From feeling like a failure for letting not one, but all four of my sites, be destroyed.

Moving on.

Over the next few months, I will attempt to blog about my journey from the Southwest to the Midwest. I will attempt to write about my aunt’s death, which rocked the family. I will attempt to address what’s going on with my job and current state of mind. I will attempt.

No promises though. Writing is painful because it forces me to slow down. To reflect. To cry. To wonder. To be still. And that’s a helluva lot harder than running around like a madwoman, dashing from one project to the next, one goal to another.

So I will make no promises. Just hopes. And with all of that said, it’s good to be back.

…and breathe.

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