I think I’m ready to be back in the kitchen.
Earlier this year, Ian and I separated and then divorced. We are co-parenting with kindness and love, and we are finishing our second semester of “Modern Family 101.”
I’ve never had a class quite like this before, but I’d say that nearly a year later, we are passing the course with flying colors.
Breaking up is hard to do, especially when we, as writers in the digital age, live so much of our lives online. We have chosen to create that virtual world, but we are also at its mercy. I’ve been itching to write so many tales while also working on that boundary thing.
However, there’s no sense in keeping a blog if you don’t bring authenticity to the space, and I crave a writing outlet that has nothing to do with the paycheck that keeps me afloat.
So, here I stand at the door, with (reusable canvas) bags full of real talk about love, loss, hope, desire, attachment and disappointment that I’m ready to slowly unpack, some privately on my own, others in full view for the world to see.
It’s a cycle I’m sure you know well.
I’ve been mulling all year about how much of it I’d like to share here. I spend all day writing, there’s still more to be written in these fingers.
Like about how we’re living in this nesting arrangement, in which the boys stay in the main house and Ian and I swap between that residence and a side apartment that we also share, just not at the same time. The boys are loving it; we’re loving it. It’s working in a way that others’ in similar situations might be interested to learn.
I need a place where I can recommend reading “Daring Greatly” by Brene Brown, who helped me learn about vulnerability and finding the courage to open your heart even when you think you can’t.
I need a place to tell my fellow Type A do-gooders who don’t know how to say “no” about Melody Beattie’s work in co-dependency.
At Beattie’s urging, I’m trying to make sure that my heart knows when it’s given enough, both online and off, so thank you for your patience while I find a slightly new voice in blogging from a slightly deeper place inside the well of the Feminist Kitchen.
Swimming deep down to the bottom, I’ve unearthed forgotten treasures that have been gathering mossy algae for a decade or more. Other time, I’m floating like an otter on the surface, basking in the sheer joy of the being in the sun.
Lots of heavy stuff, but far more lightness than I expected.
Those moments of levity caught up with me on my yoga mat, at the top of Enchanted Rock, in boots two-stepping on a dance floor, along the seams of fabric I’ve pieced together for a quilt, on planes to see people I love, on dates trying to figure out what exactly I am looking for in other human beings whom I might one day love.
We’ll see what stories I feel like weaving here in the coming weeks and months. It might just be quick odes to the things that are inspiring me on my journey, or maybe I’ll muster the ability to write about the rich little nuggets that you excavate when you do such major renovations to the emotional house that you call home.
And you can’t have a home without a kitchen, and I’m so glad to be back.