Taking 12 years off from blogging has given me over a decade’s worth of subject matter from which I can develop fresh stories: a decade’s worth of digital pictures with quirky captions, of change and milestones and silliness and tears, of personal growth (I hope) and seasoned insight (maybe) and, perhaps, a few laugh-out-loud blunders along the way.
You’d think I’d be excited to jump right in.
But as I stared at my computer screen this morning trying to figure out where to begin,
unexpected feelings surfaced: a tightening in my chest, a knot in my stomach, a flush in my face as my heart rate rose.
I felt anxious. Maybe even a little agitated (that’s probably too strong a word, but I can’t come up with another for now). In any case, I felt decidely uncomfortable.
And I *like* to write!
I don’t know what happened during my hiatus, but this one-time-professional, seasoned freelancer, multi-published writer with a bunch of books and countless articles to her credit, was nervous.
About a blog entry.
A blog entry that would likely be read by, at max, maybe ten people.
Good heavens! What was I anxious about?