If I may be frank...

I miss blogging.  Not a day goes by that I haven't missed it.  I can plead preoccupation, busied rush of other obligations, and plain forgetfulness. All of these wouldn't be dishonest, and single motherhood with a preschool-age whirlwind like Little Owl leaves me more than a little scatterbrained and on the trembling edge of exhaustion even on the best days. Any parent who would claim otherwise would be dubious at best.

But really, that's not it. Well, not entirely. A few years ago, I received a comment on this blog from Little Owl's other parent. I never approved it for posting because it was pathetic, overly dramatic, and in essence a suicide note. Knowing that this person had established a presence on my blog (not that I ever really hid this blog, but you know what I mean) made me feel exceedingly unsafe expressing my deepest thoughts and feelings.

The rule of iGoddess has always been "absolute honesty, always." I still live my life by this principle.  It has cost me tremendously, and I've lost a lot of friends because of it. But I will not back down from this principle.

However, I ceased feeling safe here. Quite the opposite. What used to be my safest emotional haven had become a platform for vulnerability, and not the good or healthy kind. I just couldn't bring myself to blog here anymore.

I have since attempted several times over the years to establish new blogs. Anonymous blogs. None survived. I longed for iGoddess. For the connections I had grown here (yeah, I'm looking at you, Mitch, lol, among others). For the history. For the tone I had struck here that I simply could not duplicate elsewhere, despite my best efforts.

I still don't quite feel safe. But I can no longer deny that I need this. I need to blog. I need to feel the sure sense of reaching out, of tossing my message in a bottle with the sure knowledge that someone, somewhere, will find it on some distant shore. I can no longer survive in isolation, and I am isolated. There's no one I can really talk to, no one I have to lean on. Since my dad's death I have no family. I have no friends who could give anything more than, "I wish I could help" platitudes. I no longer feel heard, and have forgotten what it feels like to be seen.

And so I am back here. To iGoddess. Talking out to the universe, hoping there is an ear that will hear.