I created this blog years ago to write. For me. All sorts of random things that were on my mind over the years, I have processed here, some of them deep and some of them ridiculously shallow. I enjoy writing. I enjoy the puzzle of putting words together to express things well (hopefully). I enjoy the expression of it. I strive to be thoughtful, reflective and considerate of others when I write being that it is simply another expression of how I hope to live, choosing my words and topics carefully and respectfully. I consider it a bit of a purging, too, forcing out the fragments of thought, processing them in black and white. There have been times when there would have been no rest from the musing if it hadn't been for a place, for this place, my safe place, to write them all down. I don't write for anyone. I write for me. If there are those that read it - and I know you're out there. Thank you! You help keep this fun - but still, I write for me.

Lately, however, this place hasn't been as safe and so, you may have noticed, I have been a bit more absent or, at least, a bit more superficial. At first I blamed it on time. "I'm just too darn busy!" Then, I blamed it on the depth of hurt and difficulty the last 16 months or so have brought into my life.  I believe it was a wee rabbit that said "My momma said if you don't have anything nice, don't say anything at all." Many a venting post could have been written if I hadn't held that to be true!

While those two excuses have some merit, the truth is, I've been afraid. This has not been as safe a place as it once was. While most of you have been encouraging, or at least taken the rabbit's words to heart and been silent, there have been the odd one who, reading something I have written through their own perspective, have taken it upon themselves to reprimand, condemn and otherwise criticize me for something they have read. Something they have taken out of context or read through the lenses of their own perspective. As a perfectionist and as someone who does not want to cause offense, I have taken these criticisms to heart. I have questioned my motives and the words I have chosen. I have been afraid to write for fear of causing offense.

Part of the healing process I am journeying is to evaluate those things that are freeing for me. Outlets that help me find peace or joy. The truth is, writing is one of those things. Collecting my thoughts here is good for me. Whether I like it or not, I am being forced to face my fear. Forced to face the criticism and evaluate whether it was justified or simply someone lashing out of their own "stuff." Forced to investigate my words and my intentions. Forced to realize that yes, indeed, I have been a big, fat, chicken. Pushed forward to find some peace and remember how this all started. I write for me. In order to heal, I need to continue to write for me. I am thankful for my husband who loves me in it all. I am thankful for bloggers like, Kathy Escobar, who have written extensively about the healing process of this kind of thing and have reminded me to be myself since everyone else is taken.  I am thankful, too, for friends who send packages in the mail with quotes like this one on the package:

Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.  ~ Dr. Seuss

So here it is. No more being a big, fat chicken. Or even just a little bit chicken. If words in black and white are going to be part of my journey then they will be honest ones. Appropriate, respectful, humbled, broken and sometimes colorful words, sometimes deeper than others, but always honest, always truthful and always me.