It's been a while.

I haven’t updated my blog in a very long time. I could say that I needed a break from writing, or that life got busy, or any number of reasons, but the truth of the matter is that I stopped writing because of my family. There was a time when they didn’t follow me online, and I could blissfully post about whatever I wanted. Or maybe they did follow me, but I was mostly posting about relationships or jobs or whatever day to day things. Or maybe they did follow me, but I was also still talking to them, so they didn’t feel the need to lash out. But in the last year that I was writing, my family’s behavior started to deeply impact my life and mental health. If I wrote something that they didn’t agree with, they would send me messages telling me that they would sue me, or leave me threatening and abusive voicemails. When I moved back to BC, after not talking to my mom for something like a year, she showed up at my friend’s mom’s house, and told them that I was suicidal. I do not know how she knew who my friend’s parents were, or where they lived. It shook me up. And after that, I made sure that everything that I posted was private and to never give too many details about events that I was running, places that I went, or where I lived on social media. Then that summer, I met someone. We started dating, and it wasn’t just me that I was worried about anymore. I was worried that she would find him. I was worried that she would show up at his workplace and start yelling at his coworkers that she was my mother, and that I was unwell and that that’s the reason that she was doing this. So I stopped writing. I stopped posting. I stopped sharing so many things about myself. I stopped running events. I stopped promoting myself. I stopped trying to be anything but invisible.

Over the past few years, I’ve gained about 25 pounds in excess weight, and while this past year, I have exercised a little less, I have always known deep down that this weight has nothing to do with physical activity, or diet, or any other physical qualities. These extra pounds are the literal stress and WEIGHT of carrying around this fear; of keeping my feelings, and thoughts, and writing bottled up inside of me. This fear of running into her, or any of them. This fear of reliving childhood trauma over and over again. This fear that no matter how far I come, they will always follow me. The irony here, is that my mother always told me that she thought that I would be a writer. And now she is the thing that is killing this in me.

She will undoubtedly read this. And I think about the consequences that this will have for my life. Will she find me? Will she call my employer? Will she find my partners’ family, and go to their house to confront them? Will she wait for me at the airport to scream and call me a liar? As these are all things that she’s done before. Maybe. But I cannot fucking do this anymore. I used to write daily. DAILY. And while it’s been suggested that I just write to myself, or I just write anonymously, these are not actually things that I’m interested in doing. I’ve always felt that the most important part of writing for me is vulnerability, and the ability to make other people feel heard or seen, and to maybe reach someone who is going through or has gone through something similar, in hopes that just maybe it would make them feel a little less alone. And I can’t do this in a vacuum. What is the point? Not to mention the fact the FB and Google actually make writing anonymously nearly impossible now. They link accounts without permission, they add your name to things without asking. I’ve tried. I made an anonymous Instagram account thinking – maybe this is the way that I can do this. And guess what, it was literally shut down and banned THE SECOND I OPENED IT.

Am I planning on writing full time? Do I want to be famous? Why cause myself such strife just to blog about it? Because sometimes in life there is something that you HAVE to do. And writing is that thing for me. And I’ve taken it away from myself for too long.

To be clear, while this is about writing, it’s also about doing and sharing things that I love without fear. It’s about starting to run workshops again, and being proud of accomplishments, and sharing things about my love and my work. It’s about not making myself small because of someone else. So wish me luck, friends, because there’s undoubtedly going to be a bumpy road ahead.