Which day I am in is up for debate on any day as I wake. I try to stay in today neither reaching for what is not or dwelling in what has gone by. On this morning I am aware of confusion as to what my purpose is, if any, in writing a blog. More to the point have I anything to say?

Everyone has something to say. Everyone has a story, a past, and a file over-stuffed with all the lessons they have learned along their path. What do we do with that file when there is no one to receive it? That is a truly lonely place.

Thank the powers that be for the internet where strangers find us blabbering away at a break-neck speed about everything and nothing.

I blog because I can. There are people who appreciate people like me who can string words together into a rational thought and speak for them. I used to be one of those people. I grew up without a voice. I spent time in a marriage with no voice of my own. Having a thought was one thing, speaking it without censure was wholly unknown to me. The idea that I had something valid to contribute rarely came to me. On those rare occasions I would feel the heat of frustration rise in my cheeks until words were bound to come flying out of my mouth and I would swallow them instead for fear of being wrong, mistaken, ill-informed, prove myself stupid.

Like other people with no voice I let out the odd and occasional whimper or screamed my frustration like the trapped little mute I was. But I knew I was basically inferior of mind, silly, crazy, stupid, and invalid from long years of training.

I have gone from mousy dust mite on the shelf to full blown word addict in the relatively short period of about 38 years. It began about the time my young husband walked out saying it was time for me to stand on my own two feet, leaving me with 4 small children to stand on my feet with me. He didn’t look back as he took the car and drove away leaving us to fend for ourselves. He later told me he was deliberately making life hard to force me to run back to New York State with the kids, but he did not know there was no place for me to go.

Gotta love a guy like that, right? No, not right. But he did me a favor unwittingly. I began to think for myself, not that I could tell myself my thoughts mattered much, but it was a bare beginning. The little man pulling my strings to make me dance had let go and I slowly learned my own steps.

I do not plan to stop talking any time soon. I have a voice and I intend to use it for the good, hopefully with a few tweaks and refinement along the way, less cursing and more kindness for people without the benefit of my opinion to set them straight. (huge smirk).

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