Private Blog Preview

I am a linear person. I guess the proper expression is linear thinker, but I like person better. It speaks more to the whole of it, because the process feels bigger than my thoughts. It feels visceral and instinctual and undeniable. And I have faith in my linear thinking, because I have proven to myself time and again that I really will do C after I’ve done B after I’ve done A. I’m not an “all things in balance” person, and I never will be—and that’s okay.

My being a linear person is why I’ve been gone. I was busy with A & B, and finally, C.

D is returning here, to this space of writing regularly and sharing my thoughts and experiences again. When I moved to Chicago I declared myself to be done with blogging forever. I moved all the evergreen blog posts into the portfolio, and shut down the journaling side of. I did that because I knew I was going to live a much quieter, much less colorful life here. And that’s true—I am. But what I didn’t anticipate was how much I’d still have to say, after all.

C was getting this website tidied up. Freshened up. Made into the kind of space I’d want to hang out in again. I knew it would take some time to port over all my fun legacy stuff, knock the PPRL back into place, and build out some other pages I’ve been wanting to make for years. Still working on that, but the heavy lifting is done.

B was getting my physical house in order. Getting back into healthy habits, into regular workouts and cooking at home. That took me about two and a half months, which was about what I expected. I wasn’t going to allow myself back into blogging until that was in place, because I know that when I am writing, everything else falls away. I forget to eat. I forget to hydrate. I have to have a strong routine of self-care locked in, or else.

A was getting my financial house in order. That one—well, that one took a hot fucking minute. Almost two years, to be honest. Everything else was pushed aside all the while. I didn’t go out. I hardly did any creative work. I barely exercised. It was a lot. We’ll talk about it.

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I’ve known for some time that I wanted to come back to blogging, but I knew this time it would have to be different. Too many potentially dangerous people know about my website, because thanks to my CPTSD I remain a magnet for abusers. Some have trailed along behind me in the shadows of my online presence for years. Others find me anew. I am just too open-hearted, too readily vulnerable and happy to connect when the right sort of person has the right sort of key. But people are not to be trusted. The saddest fact of life, the thing that breaks my heart more than anything, is that happiness puts a target on your back. Unhappy people cannot stand to see others in a place of joy, or just inner peace. They will sabotage in whatever way they can.

So, private it is. If you’re not sure whether you want to follow along, here’s some of what I’m going to talk about:

  1. What my first few years in Chicago have been like, the good and the bad.

  2. The bombshell discovery that I’m autistic, and all that has meant. All it has made sense of.

  3. What my daily life looks like now.

  4. My responses to some feminist media I’ve consumed lately, and my thoughts on the 4B movement.

  5. How being collapse aware informs my day-to-day living. What I choose to focus on, knowing what I know and seeing what I see.

  6. My personal philosophy of Amor Fati, and how I see it in every aspect of my life.

  7. My thoughts on having a “reverse retirement” (doing basically fuck-all from age 20 to 40), and what that has meant.

  8. How I’ve embraced solitude and become an urban hermit, and how I cope with the occasional challenges of being one.

  9. Men, and the ways they remain useful in spite of themselves.

All of this I will write whether I have 500 people reading along, or none. Just as I have always done. It’s never been about the follower count. It’s always been about getting the thing stuck in my head out of my head.

Things I will not be talking about:

  1. My job, including where I work or what I do (or even what industry). I am exceptionally lucky to have landed where I did. I have absolute work-life balance. I enjoy excellent compensation and benefits. And I report to, almost exclusively, women alone. No workplace is perfect, but I know what I have and will never jeopardize it.

So, now you know what to expect. Email me if you want the password.