Back when I was pregnant with my daughter (14 years ago), I had this huge fear of needles. Who am I kidding; I still do. I am (and was) deathly afraid of needles.
Now I put on my Big Lady Pants and go to the doctor, dutifully hold out my arm and wish them "good luck." Of course, every single person-whose-job-it-is-to-draw-blood swears she is "good" and will get it "first try."
And, of course, there's three or four tries, muttering, conferring with other nurses and rolled veins before they tell me to head over to the drop-by blood lab to let those ladies (who never seem to have a sense of humor) jab me with a needle.
I'll tell you this: Those no-humor ladies surely can jab. It might take one or two tries of dealing with my rolling veins, but they get it.
Anyway, I used to build up blood drawing in my head so much that my husband would take off work to escort me to the doctor to calm me down. I always made it worse by panicking and having sweaty hands and saying, "I feel sick."
I would probably get the biggest side-eye if I called him at work now and asked him to escort me to a blood draw.
I still hate blood draws and I'm still very bad at them. My hands have pools of sweat on them by the time I'm finished giving one vial. But, I'm also older now. I know getting jabbed with a needle is not the end of the world so just shut up and do it.
I say this because I've felt this way about the Internet for quite some time. I abruptly left blogging in 2008 (I think) to live my life off-line. I've built blogging and writing online up in my head as (to quote "The Help") The Terrible Awful.
I can't do that! It's the Terrible Awful!
My life is slowly changing. My children are getting older. They are no longer the cute little toddlers and preschoolers of my old SJ days. They are cute and adorable on their own now but as I have a teen and an alllmmmmmooooost teen at home, my role is changing.
And? I've struggled with it. A lot.
The words have run through my head recently; run-on sentences, narrating my life and thoughts as I go throughout my day. The words bring me comfort; always have.
I just have to get over this wall I've built up in my head. The Internet and blogging are not the boogeyman. Writing gave me much solace ten, eleven, twelve years ago. I need a place to figure things out, to be ME without anyone else's agenda.
I couldn't think of a blog name. I don't have a niche. I'm not a mommyblogger or a fashion person. I'm not a food blogger or one of those ladies who decorate their homes to the nines. Heck, I'm not even a "health" or "fitness" blogger/social media person who takes nonstop pictures of herself in very skimpy underwear and puts it online.
I'm just me. I was SJ (Sarcastic Journalist; let's just get it out there and be over with it), but I'm not really anymore.
I really don't have to be anything. I just am here for the words.
Now I put on my Big Lady Pants and go to the doctor, dutifully hold out my arm and wish them "good luck." Of course, every single person-whose-job-it-is-to-draw-blood swears she is "good" and will get it "first try."
And, of course, there's three or four tries, muttering, conferring with other nurses and rolled veins before they tell me to head over to the drop-by blood lab to let those ladies (who never seem to have a sense of humor) jab me with a needle.
I'll tell you this: Those no-humor ladies surely can jab. It might take one or two tries of dealing with my rolling veins, but they get it.
Anyway, I used to build up blood drawing in my head so much that my husband would take off work to escort me to the doctor to calm me down. I always made it worse by panicking and having sweaty hands and saying, "I feel sick."
I would probably get the biggest side-eye if I called him at work now and asked him to escort me to a blood draw.
I still hate blood draws and I'm still very bad at them. My hands have pools of sweat on them by the time I'm finished giving one vial. But, I'm also older now. I know getting jabbed with a needle is not the end of the world so just shut up and do it.
I say this because I've felt this way about the Internet for quite some time. I abruptly left blogging in 2008 (I think) to live my life off-line. I've built blogging and writing online up in my head as (to quote "The Help") The Terrible Awful.
I can't do that! It's the Terrible Awful!
My life is slowly changing. My children are getting older. They are no longer the cute little toddlers and preschoolers of my old SJ days. They are cute and adorable on their own now but as I have a teen and an alllmmmmmooooost teen at home, my role is changing.
And? I've struggled with it. A lot.
The words have run through my head recently; run-on sentences, narrating my life and thoughts as I go throughout my day. The words bring me comfort; always have.
I just have to get over this wall I've built up in my head. The Internet and blogging are not the boogeyman. Writing gave me much solace ten, eleven, twelve years ago. I need a place to figure things out, to be ME without anyone else's agenda.
I couldn't think of a blog name. I don't have a niche. I'm not a mommyblogger or a fashion person. I'm not a food blogger or one of those ladies who decorate their homes to the nines. Heck, I'm not even a "health" or "fitness" blogger/social media person who takes nonstop pictures of herself in very skimpy underwear and puts it online.
I'm just me. I was SJ (Sarcastic Journalist; let's just get it out there and be over with it), but I'm not really anymore.
I really don't have to be anything. I just am here for the words.
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