In general I know where to look to find things I need to make the changes I want. Unfortunately I do not always know how to fix said things when they go wrong. This generally results in 500 errors and frustration and phone calls that I know my more knowledgeable friends hate.
I’ve told you not to work on the live site.
I KNOW you did, but. . .
The caching system I was so glad I had working last night? Has saved some kind of error somewhere that is making my life annoying.
If you need me, you’ll probably found me hunched over my computer, cursing loudly -until the support line rings and then I’ll clean up my language a bit and turn on the friendly. I’m not feeling friendly though. . .
I make silly mistakes. Sometimes big, sometimes not, but generally there is an audience. I’m tired of feeling that “warm wash of shame” over stupid things that simply do not matter.
There have been nights I have sat straight up in bed regretting the most ridiculous things, because I worry that I’ll be called out for being not good enough? I may not know exactly what I worry about, but I do know that it is ridiculously tiring worrying about all those little things.
And? If we’re close enough friends that you have been in my home, that we have shared the same table, that we have laughed until we’ve cried. I think I want you to yank me aside and say, “Heather, it does not matter, knock it off.”
Yes, I committed the unpardonable sin of sharing a pic with my finger in it. Someone please take my keys, I’m obviously not going to manage at this adult thing.
Or maybe? Just maybe, I’m just human and I make silly mistakes and we will both get over them. Because? Today I got out and took a bike ride for the first time in I don’t know how long and it was beautiful and I felt good. Now there’s a little bit of me left in that picture.
For a long time I have dreaded even the thought of opening up this site and explaining myself. And then, through chance and happenstance -as so many things come to be- this video showed up in my awareness.
Early in the video Erika says: But is it the horrible thing that my formative years would have me to believe, or is it the one thing that could bring me more joy than I could ever imagine?
I have moved. I’m in a little, purple house, in a funky neighborhood in an area of a town that, when I was a child, was the subject of jokes -saw your momma down on Spruill Avenue last night. . . but it has been reclaimed and is in transition.
Like me.
This is a good place to begin. The children are okay. I’m grateful. I am surrounded by friends who love me. I am grateful.
And I am happy. I can say that and it feels honest and true.
