Mea Culpa

I'm so sorry for the long silence with no explanation.  I just sat down and read all of the concerned comments, and they made me feel horrible because I certainly didn't mean to worry anyone. 

When I first started blogging, almost three years ago, it was a life-line.  I wrote because I had to write.  I didn't expect to make the friends that I did along the way, but I'm really, truly glad that I did.  I met people online that I never would have met if I didn't start writing and I know that I've been the richer for it.

I haven't been writing because we moved.

I know that it's silly.  Moving is not a life-changing, traumatic event, at least it's not for many people.  It was, however, for me.  It's almost as if I've grown beyond both spaces, my real-world space and my blog-space.  I didn't know how much and how far beyond until I tried to move, thinking that it would be no big deal.

It's been a huge deal.

Somehow, moving threw me for a loop, exposed all of the nerves rubbed raw by endless questioning over whether I was really living the life that I wanted, whether I was really where I wanted to be in my fortieth year, and I just shut down.

I don't know if you know the feeling that I'm talking about, but it's not pretty. 

I feel that I'm just coming back, slowly, but I want to come back differently.  I wasn't ever comfortable with being a "mommy-blogger" and I'm not sure that this space really fits anything else, so I think that it's finally time to close down this site.  If I do continue to write, I'm going to need a fresh start, a place to talk about myself rather than my kids, a place where I can gaze at my navel with more anonymity and work out what it means to be me, at forty.

So, thank you...thank you for your thoughts over the last couple months and thank you for being there for me for so long, during some really tough times.  Thank you.