Start Talking Again When I Know What to Say

It’s been hard to write anything for some time now. A part of me has been chastising myself about this a bit, feeling like I was already falling behind on this project, as though I needed to be producing on a consistent basis to make sure I was properly building my “brand”/making sure that my readers had a steady amount of content/ensuring that I was giving the best, optimized experience possible while writing thoughtful, meaningful, digestible information.

And then I realized how absolutely brainwashed I’ve become by the bullshit in this new era of communication, as though for this to have meaning it has to have followers, some sort of Official presence.

I can thank two unexpected weeks in Texas, and the subsequent weeks of listening to outlaw country music that have followed since then for me realizing that the point of this project is not to just spit out words for the sake of an online presence, for clicks or likes or whatever other forms of online validation we’ve been inevitably conditioned to aim for.

While I hope to share my stories and the stories of others in the hopes that others may find strength and comfort knowing they’re not alone in their grief or death experiences, I’m not trying to become a Professional Death Person Who Can Teach You in Five Easy Steps How to Do Life Properly. I don’t have the answers. I am still stumbling through my own darkness and light because that is life and I will never not be doing that.

So, I can’t promise this site will ever be more properly structured than that. I can’t promise that I’ll ever actually provide information that’s cohesive or useful to any other human being. I think I thought I needed to, but I’ve realized that I can’t. That I need this space to grow for me, and not for Instagram likes or revenue generation. I just need to write and maybe podcast once I can come to terms with the sound of my own voice and see where the chips naturally fall.