I sit staring at a blank page, with a blank mind and just let my fingers do the writing. They fly across the keyboard and I'm not really sure of what is going to come out. I feel the need to write, and I sit here with my eyes closed and my mind blank, wondering if perhaps I should be writing in my journal instead of writing here for the world to see. Not that I have anything of consequence to say. There is a lot going on in my world, but really nothing new. It is a constant state of change, and I guess that is a good thing.
I haven't blogged in a while, at least, it feels like I haven't. I feel as though I have nothing to say. My life is so mundane, so regular, so... oh wait, that's a lie. But still, I get caught up in the every day stuff that I feel like there isn't much to write about.
I don't have any new tale to tell. Not anything that I haven't said before a hundred times. And for now, I don't particularly feel like whining about things I've whined about before. So, what is there to talk about?
Nothing, I guess. But God is good, and that is something.
And I sit here contemplating deleting this post because it's so pointless and erratic. But I figure if I post it at least ya'll will know I'm alive, at least, the 2 of you who are still reading. Maybe someday soon I can post something. Something real. Something raw. People have often told me that the appeal of my blog in the first place was that I was so real, so honest, so raw. I had a story to tell, and I told it. And I think I've forgotten why I started blogging at all. And sometimes I feel as though I'm just whining when I blog about those things. But there is a part of me, somewhere deep inside my brain pecking away at me, asking me to keep telling the story. Keep saying it. Keep sharing it. Somehow, someday, it might do someone some good. And on that day, all of the hurt and tears and 'whining' will have been worth it.
I can say that I am not the same person I was when I started this blog. I have healed so much and so much has changed, and life is forever different. I'm not in the same place I was emotionally, and I'm finally on meds to control my Bipolar Disorder, which is bloody fantastic if you ask me. But I still have a story. And maybe now that I'm more capable of handling it, it'll be easier to tell. I don't know... I know this post is erratic, but I think it's sparked something in me. I think I'll take a deep breath and plunge into the life that lead me here.
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.