I sometimes imagined this blog would serve as a window into my inner thoughts; a transparent view into the trillion or so things that roll through my head on any given day. Ideally, it was to be a humorous outlet for my inner writer. But I find my thoughts so smashed up into each other that it’s hard to tell the beginning from the end. The jagged edges don’t fit into tidy paragraphs; half-formed thoughts, ideas, insecure rants/ramblings seem inappropriate to share when I don’t know what to make of them myself.

As I get older, I am becoming more reclusive with my inner self; more protective of the soft underside. Some might see me as aloof, but the hurts hurt deeper and the joys and celebrations are shared with only my closest circle.

I’ve also noticed my opinions on certain matters becoming more inflexible and less open to discussion or debate.

I envy those writers who are willing to be transparent; to really be honest. It provides such a refreshing bit of encouragement in the noise of so much shallowness (of which, I guess, I should be included).

Let me conclude by saying I’m learning to give myself permission to not try and be perfect all the time, but I’m not at the point of telling you about it. How’s that? So, for a while you might see some password protected posts (I ❤ alliteration), but know that I’m working things out in my own head. Don’t feel bad if I don’t offer up the password, either, friends. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It means I’m not ready to say it out loud, but I have to get it out of my head. It might be ugly. It might be emotional (hey, I am pregnant – those hormones are ALL over the place). It might be funny, but not in a “haha, let’s post that to facebook” kind of funny. Just hang in there; I’ll still be around – working on keeping my windows open. Because I truly believe it is very, very good for us not to shut ourselves away. Even if the view into the room on the other side isn’t really ready for visitors.




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