Life is busy.
Life is always busy, even when there is not much going on.
We are dealing with developmental issues with a child, planning a family vacation, building a house, trying to finish up my degree and figure out what my next stage in occupation is, parenting, cleaning, pretending to pack up our apartment, watching silly TV shows, cooking, listening to podcasts, folding laundry, washing dishes, spending time with my spouse.
Life is busy. Life is good.
Busy should never be an excuse not to write.
Writing to me is the best kind of therapy. It always has been. I enjoy writing. The fact that I enjoy writing is somehow a new revelation to me. How have I not noticed this before? How have I not pushed myself to write more before now?
Life is busy. I am happy. I want to express that happiness with all the stresses that come along with it. In my path to wholeness I need to return to myself. I need to return to my writing. Writing for no purpose other than to express myself.
In my path to wholeness here I am returning to myself.
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