Here’s what happens:
I open wordpress, sign into my account, and roll my eyes as I run all the required updates. And then I click the plus sign for a new post. A new window opens.
Then I stare at it.
There’s power in a blank page, but there’s also the intimidation of wide open space, the exposure of standing alone in an untouched snowscape.
Just about a year ago, my life changed dramatically. San Diego was never a fit. I tried to love it, then tried to like it, then tried to tolerate it. I still wonder if I should have tried harder. And San Diego was a problem, but it wasn’t The Problem. The knot of everything that wasn’t working began to unravel, until one day it came unwound and there – at its core – was a seed of truth that I’d always feared finding, and always suspected was inside.
I’m not going to tell you who said or did what, but in the end, we divorced. Just after the decision was made, a golden parachute billowed out over my head, and I jumped out of the mess and into a new life in Portland, Oregon. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. I feel like I’m among my people. I’m doing work that feels important. I have a home – a sanctuary – that is all mine and that I love. And though there are always lingering questions, the ones I’m sitting with are finally my own to ask and answer.
It’s a blank page, and it’s powerful. It’s also intimidating, exposing, and filled with the kind of possibility that gives me analysis paralysis.
But it’s my blank page. So is this one. And here we are.