Hi there.

I don’t know where to start. Writing this is like trying to use a garden edger after it was left out in the rain. My page -my fingers - rusty with corrosion. The last couple of months I’ve ricocheted between despondency and sadness and liberation and resuscitation, never settling on one for too long. And I couldn’t blog about it. The one time I needed words to minister to my emotional ailments most, they wouldn’t come. So many nights, I crawled into bed, logged onto my site, and tried painstakingly to record what was going on inside. Nothing. Over and over again, there was nothing. So I muddled along. I left my husband, filed for and obtained a divorce, and learned how to become a single parent...all without my words. On top of that darkness and heartache, there was also rejection from my blog that while invisible to most, was stripping it its bitterness and no less painful than anything else I was experiencing. I’ve tried to put into verbal language what my heart has been speaking but I’ve been rusty and timid in my approach. Apologetic and insecure in a way I seldom am online.

So… here I am. Back to sharing and listening. Back to hoping.

I’m not going to rehash the last several months. I’m not going share confidences about my ex or our marriage settlement or parenting agreement, nor will I describe every moment I battled disappointment and fear. I’ll only say about my marriage that it was comfortable. Married 8 years and together almost 10, we had learned each other's rhythms, and our days melted one on top of the other into pools of the perfunctory. More days than not I'd awaken in the same bed, with the same man, and I'd ask myself, is this what you want the rest of your life to look like? And it wasn't. It isn't. No matter how much affection I felt for him - and how much guilt I felt about myself - I couldn't deny the truth that greeted me every morning: I didn't want this, and no matter how married I was, I still felt alone.

Other than that explanation, I’m starting fresh from today. I’m reconnecting with my favorite writers, and in a way reconnecting with my own voice because I know the perspective from which it is shared has changed.

But know this: I made it, and I’m here. I’m on my own with my daughter, both of us standing at the threshold of a new and exhilarating, frightening and overwhelming, rich and limitless world. And although the changes- and my seeming lack of control over them-sometimes threaten to drown me, I’m taking a step off this precipice, with longing and faith that good karma will be there to catch me.

It’s good to be back.