Shall we start over?

I feel as though im finally ready to start writing again.

Phew! What a big statement in one little sentence. It means nothing to anyone else, but to me encompasses a whole galaxy of fears, issues, doubt, and trepidation.

You see, 3 years ago, what feels like a whole birth away, I used to have a blog. It was a little blog about my life and thoughts, nothing very different from others out there, except that I like to think that I had a habit, more so than most, of really exploring the depths of and overarching reasons for my feelings. This led to a lot of support, and occasionally, a lot of controversy, as well as awe of courage that I never felt I had. At the time, I was in a constant state of somewhat-flux, what with dealing with work, arranged marriage, hypocrisy, and the need to maintain my weight. So it was a lot of fun to reflect upon all that was going on and share it all with a handful of faithful readers and friends.

Then I finally got engaged, and subsequently married. That led to the subjugation of a voice I had only recently been beginning to find. It led to a constant questioning of opinions and values I had held to be unchangeable, either by myself, or by others. And, usually, not being in a position to assert them , or having them quelled, I squirreled them into the back of my consciousness and waited for them to become irrelevant.

I’m still waiting. But in the meantime, I realized that my suppression of my thoughts led me to explode occasionally in a wayward fireworks of passive-aggression, which started alienating people and made me dislike myself thoroughly. And that was when I made the decision to start writing again, for my sanity and the well-being of others around me.

But it isn’t easy to start writing again. I feel as though ive been heartbroken and alone for so long, and now ive finally met someone who’s forcing me to love him. It feels as though I must learn to love again, to let go of my fears, to trust, and to fall into the abyss of complete self-acceptance, where no one and nothing else matters but my well-being (of course as long as I don’t hurt anyone else). It’s hard to get used to loving yourself, when for so long all you’ve done is want to sink through the floor a la Sita, even if its of your own accord.

Just like a relationship, I don’t know where this will go, how long it will last, and if the journey will be fruitful, or if it will end well. I just know that right now, it feels as though my fingers have been freed, and this liberation is swelling through my eyes and overflowing out of me like dams shattered loose in a storm.

I hope you love me as I love you. And that we may go far.