Dipping My Toe

I’ve been trying for days to figure out how to go about writing this, tinkering with what I’ve wanted to say and if I should even approach it. It’s tough because some personal writing that I did a number of years ago ended up being discovered by some close to me and even though there wasn’t anything hurtful directed at them, it still ended up causing some sour feelings, so I immediately shut it all down. That particular writing venture was a bit more public knowledge, and the person in question was far more internet savvy than I gave them credit for. Big oops. As such, while it’s certainly public and anyone could stumble upon it, I’ve chosen to keep this one a bit more discreet in an effort to keep it from being completely out there. My husband has full knowledge, but he supports and encourages my writing, and knows how much this means to me.

Now, you may be saying to yourself “Why are you worried about sporadic posts with recipes and fitness stuff?” To that I’ll respond that the intent behind this blog is meant to be so much more, I’ve just been working up the courage to put myself back out there, and it isn’t easy after the above noted discovery. It might seem ridiculous to some, but it felt like a violation of privacy, one that I had experienced over and over since I kept a childhood diary. That is a story for another time, but today, I am ready to dip my toe back into the water.

I’m probably known as a worrier to some people. Oh hell, I know I am a worrier. (That’s why my friends call me Whiskers, and if you’ve never seen Will Ferrell’s Harry Caray skit from SNL, you will have no idea what I’m referring to.) It’s always been a problem for me, although I think I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older. Lately, however, there is something that has been weighing very heavily on my mind, and for good reason. Given the struggling health of her husband, I am starting to have to face the thoughts of taking care of my mother. It is something that has crossed my mind in the past, but recently I’m realizing that I may have to deal with this possibility far sooner than I had ever anticipated. Believe me, I hope that this isn’t the case, but recent events have brought all of this to the forefront and my worrying is kicked into high gear. Is she financially prepared for this? Are we financially prepared? Is she emotionally capable of handling this? Am I capable? So many thoughts are stirring through my mind. But, as I write this, I find that I keep leaving the post and moving on to other distractions as I am afraid to put all of my true feelings about what this possibility really means out into the blogging world.

I’ve (barely) dipped my toe, and I’ll leave the plunge for another day.

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