I need to start again. Too many thoughts stuck in my brain.
I've avoided writing because locally I'm not anonymous. How can I bitch about work when I know there are people who know where I work? How can I bitch about family when some of them know I blog? How can I be candid about personal stuff when the 4 people who read my blog who know how to find me?
I guess that's the price I'm going to have to pay for being famous. And maybe that's my problem. To assume that my words are read or intended for an audience defeats my purpose. Ego. Pride. Boo me.
As I sort through my thoughts today in an attempt to get back to writing for the joy of writing and the release I feel when I to a verbal vomit, I come back to my disappointment in myself.
There have been so many hemophilia related issues over the last couple years that I haven't shared. I've had issues related to my own hemophilia that I haven't shared. My kids have hurdled several milestones (hemophilia and otherwise) that I haven't shared. I've read some great books and met amazing people across the country. I've neglected important personal relationships.
I've neglected myself. My writing. My health. My profession. My friends.