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Writer's pictureJoy Juliet

Begin Again


It's been just over two months since I opened Instagram one morning and announced that I was going to post 100 times about the end of my marriage. A moment later, I set down my phone on the kitchen island and thought, “Wait, did I just say 100?!”


This is post 15/100, and so far this practice has reconnected me with people I haven’t talked to in years, brought new people and opportunities into my life, and restored a sense of freedom and ease I didn't even know I was missing. I've been floored by how many people have said, “I haven’t told anyone, but I’m also getting a divorce.” Or, “You put into words just how I felt when…” Or, “Your post made me cry.” It’s one of the greatest wonders, how words can travel through time and space finding just who needs them, like birds born knowing which direction to fly to find the sun.


Lately, it's been longer between posts. This is partly because there has been a lot going on. Good things, mostly– vacations and work and visits from old friends. And it is partly because I began to feel the familiar creep of fear–fear that I'd shared too much, that for all the people who found my words inspiring, there are others who think they’re embarrassing. Fear that I'd run out of things to say.


But then, I woke up on another morning and Spring was here. The cherry blossoms were bursting into bloom, reminding me of the Anais Nin quote that I’ve heard a thousand times and only just started to understand, “And then one day the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” I remembered that creativity is a river that sometimes gets low, but only until the next rainstorm fills it up again.


And so, I begin again. I’m becoming more comfortable with the cyclical nature of writing–of life. I’m learning how to float downstream when the current is strong, how to rest when it feels like a slog. All of this is to say, thank you. Thank you for following along. Thank you for your kind words, for your patience. Thank you for allowing me to begin again, and again, and again.

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