It is raining outside and a little after midnight as I begin to write, yet again. This time it is for something new… But what to write about… the list is relatively vast:

– Being a wife and still staying myself – The fact that I have a daughter now – My Experiences with Cancer – My Current health quagmire – All my past health shit that let to this and its chronic continued existence – My Mental health – The fact that I feel remorse for things I shouldn’t – How I have a habit of holding myself back.

Basically, my day to day!

To Blog or not to Blog. That has been the current question in my mind.

I feel that I have much to share and that blogging can be a wonderful facilitator in this realm.

So, following that logic, here I venture out into a new forum. And While I know that finding one’s footing in a new arena is a bit arduous to be sure…I am up for the challenge. Hoping that throughout it I find my true tales of life resonate with a few others and eventually have a back and forth connection.

I have a cat sitting on both of my wrists as I type – which is both adorably endearing and also a bit heavy. It’s sort of the same way one can feel when starting anything new-like a blog… But her sweet kitty purrs make up for all the heavy.

But where to start? I know these tales from my life will not be linear, this I can assure you – but they will be on many a thing some of us go through. Like what?

Well, to touch on what I started to list above, I might expand on my Cancer story… how I was young (though not as young as some) when a false diagnosis and knowing medical neglect took me down a long winding path from what should and could have been caught at stage one but instead landed me with a rare Stage 3 Lung Cancer and a prescribed death sentence. This is merely the beginning of that true tale. I want to share with you and explain why I (like so many others) couldn’t take on anyone’s compassion, hurt, or pain because it felt like pity and that tugged me down. I didn’t want to hurt feelings but I HAD to put emotion away. I had to fight to live. Not fight to feel.

Or my PTSD – a term people have latched on to, but I assure you is quite real. That I still sometimes deal with my PTSD ever since “the incident” . There will come a time I lay that all to bare for you to read and hopefully connect and learn even more through that true tale.

While my physical pain is taking me to a place where I must stop writing this post for now, I logically know there is no shame in that and I should not punish myself; And yet I know there is a strong chance I will – in one form or another.

There is an insecurity of putting my words out in the ether, yet I want to connect. My words are not always pretty. In fact at times they are down right gruff. But they are the truth – the happy, the crappy – the tragically beautiful life I live and love. My hope is that someone will perhaps feel less alone in their thoughts – or relate and have something to teach me as we all do with each other in life.

Brand new struggles and stories are rare, if they even still exist at all. Yet we each deal with, talk about, and even write about them a bit differently. It is in this slight change of story perspective where everyone has someplace to find common ground. We crave and want to know connection – to feel less alone, even those of us who are so fulfilled have moments of questioning. Questioning the happy – Staying in the moment – Dealing with the overwhelming. Isn’t that connection incredibly beautiful? And isn’t that the point?