I’ve come back to my blog because it’s a smaller audience than Instagram, etc. I like it here. Not too many people read it, just enough for those moments when I forget I am a writer and someone says, “I read that post you wrote and I feel you!!” That’s all I need. A little praise and a listening eye. I need an audience that I can trust. To read my blog is to read my public diary. The thing is, I never really considered my audience before—except for the kids, I don’t think about who is reading my vignettes when I am typing. I just flow. I go into a space of reflection and I float there with my head back and my eyes sewn to the world so that I can just breathe on the keys. 

But not posting publicly has taught me that I do enjoy getting feedback on my craft—but in order to receive, I have to give of myself. I have to share. I vibrate toward my highest self when I learn from my vulnerability. 

Grateful hearted, learning to be humble, not letting bruises kill me because I know they heal.


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