Hello again

Soooo...you're not going to facebook OR blog now?!? What - are you trying some pioneer lifestyle? ;-p

I got this text from The Wise Soprano a few weeks back, followed by several concerned emails from other friends. So perhaps I should start by saying, everything's fine. Life is good. It turns out that the day I deactivated my Facebook account coincided with the last post I wrote here, almost 2 months ago, but I hadn't actually thought those events were related. Now I'm not so sure.

My 30th birthday, although it was relatively unaccompanied by angst or crisis of any kind, did bring with it a certain amount of stock-taking. 30, that nice big round number, feels like an arrival, time to know who you are and what you're doing. The big things in my life are right where I want them to be: I've just married a man more perfect for me than any I could imagine, my career is going swimmingly, I'm surrounded by a supportive family and the best friends anyone could ask for. I do worry, though, that the day-to-day is passing me by. When I have downtime, I'm more likely to fritter than to make it count, particularly when I'm away from CameraMan, which has been an awfully long time this fall.

I went off of the 'Book as a month-long experiment. I found myself spending an inordinate number of hours checking in on people I didn't feel particularly close to, and I wondered if I would miss it if I quit cold turkey. Turns out, I didn't, not at all, which is why I didn't reactivate my account after the month was up. I wish I could say that I've devoted the extra time I now have to better keeping in touch with the few people I truly care about, but that's still a work in progress.

The not blogging thing is something I don't understand as clearly. I'm struggling with what this blog means. I'm not an expat anymore. I don't have problems I want to escape. I'm thoroughly content living a life that consists mostly of work and CM, and honestly, I'm not entirely sure I have much to say anymore. Work has been hard these past few months, hard and dramatic and in some ways disappointing, but ultimately I've been reminded that I find great satisfaction in my work. And in an attempt to be kinder to myself, I'm telling myself that it's okay if the most I can accomplish on any given day is going to work, trying to do my job really well, and then telling my husband I love him. I'm giving myself permission to let go of self-improvement projects, to read the books I want to read instead of the ones on someone else's list, to stay up late watching episodes of Downton Abbey just because, to write only if there's something I want to say.

Tonight I felt like writing. Tomorrow I might not. Thanks for being here when I do.