In a previous life (or at least it feels that way), I used to be an avid blogger. I was part of the first generation of pre-Y2K web journallers who, instead of keeping a diary under lock and key, broadcasted our daily lives and most intimate secrets for the world to read on the internet. In fact, I just might have earned the title of “Over-Sharer of the Year” with a certain photo I posted of my uterus back in 2006. When Twitter was the thing, I tweeted through my labor from the hospital. I filmed vlogs and posted them on YouTube. Then, it was Facebook. My life was an open book.

Right around the time my mom’s health was declining and subsequently struggled through her passing, blogging fell by the wayside. I felt less inclined to share. Something about life, grief, and a bunch of other things took priority over my need to produce content for web consumption.

But, from time to time, I missed blogging. Writing has always been cathartic for me. But then, devoting the time to maintaining a blog became the problem. Juggling homeschooling, work, caring for my father, and my family was (and is) not an easy balancing act.

But Lil’ K’s interest in starting her own blog prompted me to revisit my own. There is much value to the written word and the capturing of moments in a journal. I have never been successful at keeping a written journal, but consistently journaled online for over a decade. Maybe it is time to write the next chapter.

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