Hi. My name is Robin, and you used to know me.
The year started out like any other, but then life happened. Normally I’m able to roll with the punches but in March, I lost my faithful companion LoveJunkie. As silly as it might sound, that broke me at my very core, and pushed me into a deep spiral depression out of which I’m only now beginning to climb. (You can tell my writing skills are rusty because I tortured that last sentence of hanging grammar things for a good five minutes. You’re welcome.) I really haven’t long blogged since, retreating into myself and Instagram, where I could let the pictures write their own thousand words.
Now it’s apparently July and I can only remember a handful of things that happened in the last six months. So many dropped balls, mindlessly attended meetings, shunned social outings. While there are definitely things to write about when I’m in confessional mode, today is not a day for introspection. It is, however, a day for first steps back into my old world, starting with dusting off my site and trying to remember how to work this thing. (Honestly, I take it as a promising sign that I even remembered my login.)
Now all that’s left is a new post to write.
Funny how a blank page seems to mirror my inability to visualize who I am anymore. This blog, for example, has morphed over the years from an exploratory tech blog into some sort of personal confessional. It’s not really what I intended, but apparently it’s what I’ve needed. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve deeply appreciated your incredible patience and support as I’ve struggled with some not-so-minor things in my life over these last few years. To be completely honest, however, it’s almost become a burden to try to find something to write about. I mean, seriously, I can’t wring my heart out on every post; it’s exhausting for you and me alike. Which simply means I think I need to find a new normal — whatever normal may be — and do some exploring.
In the meantime, I still need something safe to write about, and it suddenly occurred to me that I should fire up my knitting blog which I apparently abandoned without remorse some years ago when my dear Knitpistols disbanded. Knitting is safe, and knitters are kind hearted people who throw open their world to anyone like you’ve been best friends for life as long as you’re willing to let them pet your yarn (and seriously, who isn’t?). Time to create a subdomain and talk about fondling yarnporn.
And this is where I confess to part of the inspiration for this post. Back when I was a disruptive technologist in a group formerly known as ETS, I got the chance to know Jim Groom and Tim Owens at UMW before they decided to become even cooler than they were already and spun off into their own venture, Reclaim Hosting. I’m in love with Reclaim; they’re wicked smart, ridiculously personable, and always help me get through the tech stuff so I can get to the word stuff. They also make it ridonkulously affordable to be on the interwebs, and I’m pretty sweet on them — especially when I do stupid things like accidentally delete my site login, or forget that I already have subdomains in place that I totally forgot I’d created a year ago, and then they go and even offer to walk me through putting a redirect in place for my knitting sh#t. They never make me feel stupid and are always quicker than the blink of an eye. Other people think they’re great, too. You should read all the nice things people say about them. And then maybe even sign up with them. Or whatever. I’m not the boss of you.
You’re probably thinking, what the hell, Robin? I thought this was supposed to be another insightful post? I couldn’t care less about with whom (!! look at me getting the hang of this again!) you host your site. And you’d be right. I don’t really have a point, except to say this:
There are times in your life where you are going to need help getting back in the saddle after you’ve fallen off and spent the last six months bawling your eyes out from the pain of breathing. That help might come from friends who politely look the other way and step in to do your damn job for you until you can come back and not cock it up. That help might come from coworkers who understand when you need to work from home because you can’t even. That help might come from people who visit your site to check for some sign of life or drop a note hoping that you’re doing okay (I see the analytics, people, don’t try to kid me). Or, that help might come from those lovely people in this world who offer kindness and acceptance just by doing their damn job effectively and with a smile every single day, expecting nothing in return.
Thank you, everyone, for helping me to reclaim my space in this world. I’ll see you soon.
Edited to add: And yes, if some of this sounds familiar, it is. My blog thoughtfully pointed me to Confessional after I read what I wrote. What can I say, people? The struggle is real, yo.