November 5, 2015


Sometimes the view doesn't have to be clear to be beautiful. 

Hey, remember that time I abandoned my blog for almost a year? Yeah. So that happened. Actually a lot has happened. So much happening has happened that I found myself first lost, then adrift, then on alone on a new island, searching for a way home. That analogy is more literal than you might think.

Since my last post eleven long months ago, my almost-four-year relationship has come to an end, creating an amount of upheaval in my life that caused me to curl up into the fetal position and freak out more times than I care to admit. Breakups of any kind are difficult. But breaking up with someone you've shared a home and a life with for four years feels more like a divorce than a break up. This comes from someone who's experienced both. When your lives have become so deeply interwoven, there is no quick ripping off of the breakup bandaid. Instead it is slowly tugged at for months, exposing the wound again and again. The repetitive tugs - dividing up belongings, moving out, removing names and money from shared accounts - slow the healing process dramatically. So I feel no small sense of pride when I say that Daniel and I came out on the other side of this painful process as true friends. The grief will linger a while for us both before fading away completely. The love and respect we have for each other is going to stick around. And thank god for that.

There are, I think, two kinds of creative people. Those who, when faced with great difficulty or loss, become prolific, harnessing the uncomfortable energy of their pain into a streak of creation and catharsis. But for others, the pain is cold and unyielding, forcing them into an unwelcome hibernation as they await the spring of their grief. In case it's not clear, I'm the latter. As I've navigated my way through this transition, my desire to write was frozen solid. I cooked here and there, and some of those recipes will make their way to the blog eventually. But for almost a year I've found myself unable to come here and publish anything at all. Being uncertain about where your life is going will do that. It's difficult to share when your world feels like one big question mark.

Getting rid of that question mark has been my main focus. I'm a creature of habit. Routines are a comfort to me. Which, as I've mentioned in the past, makes times of dramatic change quite a challenge. But bit by bit, I've started building a new life for myself. I signed a lease and settled into a charming, albeit teeny-tiny, 300-square-foot studio in Brooklyn. I started working as a nanny for a lovely family in Manhattan. And I'm making big plans. Bold plans. Big, bold, life-altering plans. I'm equal parts excited and scared as shit. Which means I'm doing this "grab-life-by-the-balls" thing right, I think.

All of these grand plans will make their way to the blog in time. Some of the grand plans involve the blog itself, in fact. So for those of you who stuck around, thank you. I can't wait to share new recipes with you soon. But for now, I'm just glad to be back, writing words that flow from mind to fingertip to screen.  

1 comment:

  1. Joy, I am so glad you are creating again. I've missed your voice, and I miss your face. ��