This beautiful blog and I have come to a cross-roads.
When I started writing in the days right before and after Stephen’s death, it was a way to reach out and, at times, to inform. It started as a running commentary, a rebuttal to the statement “I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t.” (The answer to that, of course, is “You just do. You don’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice.”) Back then, it wasn’t even in blog form.
The blog started as an Ambien and xanax-laced commentary on what to do with all the extra funeral cake and why I shouldn’t cruise ebay at 3am in that state. I was spilling my guts and my heart and my fears to nobody in particular. And yet, I was desperate for somebody to know and to hear.
Over the years, it replaced all the times I could have drunk dialed (but didn’t) and all the random crap that may have gotten shipped my way. I wish I could go back and count how many words were written only through the muscle memory of my fingers because I couldn’t see the screen through the tears.
How many times did an episode of Grey’s Anatomy strike a chord? How many blog posts were interrupted because I had to nurse a little back to sleep? How many nutty bars were eaten? Bottles of vanilla vodka emptied?
This is the beginning of the end.
At least for this chapter in our lives.
I started writing here as a form of therapy. I craved the support that comes with spilling one’s guts to the interwebz at large but it was more about organizing my thoughts and my hopes and as a place to record my memories.
Sometimes I wrote just for the littles. I forget that they really were just babies when all of this happened to us. I look at a common, everyday three-year-old and think about how very little Ella was. And Amelia really was a wee babe. It’s little wonder we all survived without a visit from the health department, CPS or the police.
Anyway, this isn’t about that anymore. This is the beginning of the end.
In the course of the rest of the year, ending on New Year’s Eve, I’m going to wrap up this blog and walk away. I’ll probably start a new one at some point (maybe New Year’s Day) but there is a part of me that thinks “Notes to Self” found its own end.
And I’m okay with it. Because nothing is the same as it was four years ago. The littles have changed and grown. I have changed and, well, I keep on changing. I don’t know that I’ve grown but I do have a different perspective and a whole new set of priorities for my life.
So, if anyone is left reading this after all these years and all this time, is there anything you want me to address? Re-address? Are there any thoughts left undone? A story I started but never finished? What should I do with four years of memories, 700+ posts and a thousand comments?