After we moved back from Argentina, and settled in the ‘burbs, I stopped.
I stopped writing.
I stopped publishing.
I stopped connecting.
And sometimes, I stopped living, as fully and completely as I could have.
Even at the (previous) lowest points of my life, I was writing here. I told you, Internet, about my separation. I told you about my divorce, and my starting anew, and Beginnings and all of that.
I fell madly in love with an amazing human being. We shacked up then packed up and moved to South America and had crazy awesome adventures, some that even included naked-lady towels.
Then we settled.
My advice to you? Don’t ever settle.
It was fine, for a while. I had a job. We had a nice house with a lawn and a garage and a washer and dryer in the basement. We bought a hammock and I built some benches.
But still: We settled.
Seven years ago, almost to the day, I wrote this blog post. It’s still here, on the internets, for everyone to see. And my, how I wish I’d read it monthly – even annually – for the past seven years.
I didn’t, though, and in that seven years, I forgot some of the lessons I should have learned.
But now, in the immortal words of Britney, I’m back, bitches. I'm back with more honesty, more late night blogging and more blood, sweat, and most definitely tears. I’ve got them all in spades, and as of tomorrow morning, I might even have a new bachelorette pad here in the BK.
If that doesn’t work out, I might be looking to sleep on your couch. I’ll bring the bourbon and the Kleenex.
And you guys, please: Read on. Write on. And most importantly: Love on.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014