Rising From the Dead

I’ve felt stifled for half a decade. I’m trying to resurrect not only myself but my creativity. It’s hard, coming back from that kind of dark and finding life and self again.

Sometimes you don’t even know you’ve been in a purgatory until you’ve wandered out of it, so now I feel like a little fawn on weak but learning legs whose stumbled out of the forest into the long-missed sunlight.

All of it’s coming in waves. Small ones at that. Maybe spurts is the best moniker, but I don’t love that word. Regardless, I’ve realized maybe those small bursts shouldn’t be dismissed. Just because I haven’t gotten all my words back (yet) doesn’t mean the words I have discovered should be labeled less-than.

Until I get back on my feet in a way I feel I have something to truly offer in this space, I’ve made a Substack. A little place for my snippets and dabbling, and a place I can explore all my curiosities—all my loves and likes and joys—without feeling boxed in. I admittedly feel that way sometimes when I log in here, though I suppose that is of my own making.

If you fancy, subscribe to my Substack during this in-between time of being lost and finally found. You can simply bookmark it if that’s more your speed.