Althea Writes Here

A long time ago, my heart was broken. He was a friend, one whose love I thought I couldn't return, until one day I did, and it was too late. I was distraught; I thought I had finally found perfect love, and, the blind idiot that I was, had managed to lose it. But I knew nothing would come out of dwelling in my misery. To get over that heartbreak--and, more importantly, to get over hating myself--I went on a mission to focus on life's messages of love for me. By love, I didn't mean romantic love; I meant the love that says I am always blessed, that I haven't missed out on any of life's joys, and that the happiness that I thought I'd lost was still there for me to delight in, to take as mine, to give to someone else. Still, even if I didn't mean romantic love, and because I had missed love even when it was staring me in the face, I wanted life to tell me it loved me by sending me, why, yes, hearts. What could be more obvious, more telling, than hearts?

A friend reminded me of my blog, asked me, "Didn't you get a domain name because you wanted to start blogging regularly?" All I had were six posts since November 2012, many of them recycled from the old blog. I felt like a fresh start again, I wanted to delete my posts all over again, I wanted even to buy a new domain name. But I stopped myself and decided to merge old blog and new blog and move forward from there. Of course that meant having to read through some 300 posts from 2007, and that meant facing my younger self with her promises of commitment and changes and the turning of new chapters. Confronting myself, my personal nightmare. But here we are. New template, old stories told, new stories to be written. Here we are.