Hey, old friend. It's been quite, quite a while.
Actually, I'll be specific: it's been a year. Almost exactly, like eight days shy. But tonight, right now, is the very first time I've been back to the site since I left it. It's so weird how hard that was, to even type the address into my browser -- just doing that felt like a minor miracle. But I'd sent someone the link, and started thinking, hell. Is it even a site anymore? It's just been so far gone.
What's fucked up is that coming here used to be my little escape; this was my bitsy secret corner of the internet. I'd pop in and tell a story when I should have been working, or read comments when I needed reassurance. It was this perfect, private sanctuary, and I loved it. I LOVED writing, I loved the emails, I loved meeting so many people from everywhere. Not to mention, this site was my secret weapon; someone fucked with me, and GUESS WHAT, MISTER. LOTS OF PEOPLE ARE GOING TO MOCK YOU SOON. Writhe, WRITHE in our collective disdain! And I might smack you anyway, thus yay, I WIN, put a bow on it, etc.
But, point being, this site was my refuge. Until one day, it just wasn't. One day, I realized way too much about why I was writing, and what I was hiding, and that realization made me run away from home. And for those of you who truly care, and who didn't flounce off in some kind of fucking entitled huff when I stopped updating: I'm genuinely sorry I left you hanging. There was just so much of me here, so much of my history, and so much sadness that I could read between the lines. So much equivocation, desperation. Turns out, I used to be pretty fucking unhappy, and somehow, I hid it really, really well.
Whatever, though. I'm not going to get into heart-wrenching, Lifetime movie detail, but I feel like I owe you -- the kind ones out there -- an explanation. So I'm going to give you the three big-ass things that have kept me away for so long (and I'm not even going INTO the site issues, which I am currently pretending do not exist; seriously, it took me an hour just to worm my way through to posting again. Let's not discuss it. Or the STILL BROKEN ABOUT ME PAGE, because YOU GUYS WE ARE IGNORING THAT RIGHT NOW, COLLECTIVELY), and now I've lost my train of thought, but at ANY rate, hi there (!) and here we go with the perfect storm that can kill a website, in no particular order:
1. I got outed. At work, by someone with the best of intentions, who really liked the site and wanted to share. But who also though it would be appropriate to tell other attorneys, the secretarial pool, and a number of my clients. That alone will shut your ass up.
2. The ABSOLUTELY IMMINENT DEATH OF GIMMME. Short story is that about a year ago, Gimmme developed a head tilt. Many doctors (there are such things as canine neurologists, and second opinions from OTHER canine neurologists, and it will cost you a car) later, and a diagnosis of TERMINAL DEADLY HIDDEN NON-PHOTOGRAPHABLE BRAIN TUMOR OF DEATH plus a side order of FATAL DYING ON A STICK (now with extra DEATH), he's...fine. Eventually, his head went back to normal, and he never had any other symptoms, so...huh. Basically, we have no idea what the fuck happened, but I went into a vet appointment with one cheerful, sideways-headed dog, and I left sobbing with pamphlets about pet cremation. (Note: we don't go to that vet anymore.) Now that he's straight-headed again, I'm just starting to getting accustomed to the idea that he isn't going to die a whole lot in his sleep. Repeatedly, every day, etc. I was kind of a basketcase over little Gimmme, but he's doing awesome now, and we're finally beginning to chill about him.
3. Aaaaand, speaking of basketcase...hello. SO, turns out I can write some pretty fucking cheerful bullshit when I'm severely depressed. Evidently, I knew how I was supposed to sound, and I knew how Normal Leigh tells stories, and, yeah. Apparently I can mimic that, and I can do so even when getting out of bed was too much to contemplate. Like I said, I'm not going to get into it, because it's intensely (a) personal, and (b) embarrassing, and (c) boring, OH MY GOD SO BORING, but I look back at a few of those entries -- not all, by any stretch, but a few -- and I shudder when I think about where I really, truly was.
It's been difficult to reconcile that with where I am now. Yeah, everything I wrote was technically true, but I was just so fucking sad all the time, and for so long. I didn't write about that part. I didn't write about how miserable I was in my relationship, or the bullshit I swallowed. I read my old entries, and I'm equally divided as to whether someone should (a) hug me, or (b) smack the everloving shit out of me and tell me to grow the hell up, fashion a spine, and incidentally, JESUS CHRIST, GROW THE HELL UP. Either approach probably would have been appropriate, but nobody knew I needed it. I am a good hider, and I keep my secrets. Kind of until now, I guess.
But, aaaaanyway. So, that was then, and now, there's today. And, despite the relatively pissy tone of this post (sorry, I read some of the old comments and emails, and that got my ass all indignant -- I know I should wait and revise and post this tomorrow when I'm less worked up, but I just want to do it now), the fact is that I still feel like there's something to salvage here. I feel like it doesn't have to be about all that history. Because really, when I was at my worst, writing here made me happy. Sometimes it was kind of the only thing that DID make me happy, and I don't want to lose that. As ridiculously pat as it sounds, there's a lot of good here still, and I want back in. And I feel like I'm finally ready to try, because right now, I'm happier than I've ever been.
And, most of all: remember the Senator? Senator Sasquatch, the guy Cookie INSISTED would be perfect for me, whom she strongarmed into a blind date with me, under the watchful eyes of the VAST MAJORITY of my co-workers? The same Senator Sasquatch who proceeded, after one date, to sweep me off my feet in a whirlwind romance? That was over a year ago, and now I wake up in his arms every morning. And I love him so much.
His name is Brian, and I can't wait for y'all to meet him.
Portrait of the writer as a happy girl.
So, I'm starting Doxie 3.0 (Version 2.0 = total bust, MY BAD). I'm itching to write again, and I'm finally in a place where I can come here and do so, without feeling bogged down by all the history associated with this site. And I like the fact that I'm starting out with just a few people, because if you're still checking here after a year...well, I'm thinking that you understand my reluctance. Maybe you knew me better than I did. And I thank you for that.
Besides. I know a fame whore who's missed his time in the spotlight. And baby, it's time for his close up.
Womens, the time has come 4 ur dreems 2 come true.
And, much to my chagrin, we have a new player to introduce.
Mrs. Kitteh used 2 lif in a dumpster. Nao she lifs in the suburbs. Also Mrs. Kitteh wants to eet ur ovariehs and lungses, rite out of ur bodeh. Thank you.
Which is to say, I'm back, y'all. And I am better at last. Even though we have a fucking cat.