Scabs

A couple days ago Amanda and I perused through my blog a bit, laughing at some of the funny stories I told about TSA, enjoying all the pictures, and giggling at the absurdities of her younger self (and Brandon's as well).  As we finished, she declared that I need to be writing and taking pictures again. The thought gave me pause as a grip of terror found its way around my chest.

My entire blog (however sparse it's been the last couple years), is a representation of some of the most difficult years of my life, our lives, and to come back here for a visit feels like I'm ripping off finally-healed scabs.  I feel as if I've clawed and dug my way out of a very long, slimy, scary, dark tunnel into the most beautiful sunshine, and even coming to write this post feels a bit like I'm flirting with disaster.

Having said that, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to stretch my fingers and find the courage to begin writing about life as it is now, life with a teenager and a soon-to-be pre-teen.  Maybe I just have to trust that the ghosts and ghouls of years past wont sneak up and strangle me back into the darkness in which they reside.  But then again, maybe writing again will help me to revisit the old blog posts, to peek under the covers a little and bring light to the darkness.

My other passion, photography, died right alongside my blog.  I used my camera maybe a couple of times in as many years, so along with revitalizing my writing, I'm hoping to breathe some life back into my photography.  With baby steps perhaps I can learn to merge the old wounds with the new life and appreciate that both have made, and are making me, who I am today.