I started 8junebugs.com a year ago today, knowing only that I needed to write. Or, more accurately, write again. It was time to blog out in the open.

I didn’t start with a content plan. I didn’t know that I would be tackling a metric ton of Big Ass Life Events in rapid succession, although I suppose one could argue that nothing that happened this year was a complete surprise:

The Divorce
People who’ve known me a long time or who know me very well (or both) were not surprised when I left my ex-husband. Those people were, thank all the gods, blessedly mum with the I-told-you-so’s. Mostly. The truth is, no one really told me so (unless you count the FOCUSS test the priest made us take, but postponing was…not an option). I might have known early on that marrying him was not the right decision for me, but very few people ever call me on making a bad decision. Frankly, I didn’t need anyone to tell me…I already knew, and it didn’t stop me.

The New Guy Who’s Not New, Not Even Remotely
Given our history and the opportunity, I don’t think it was a huge surprise to anyone that G. and I reunited. We’ve done it before. This time, it’s a far more conscious decision, a deliberate commitment to what we are together. There’s no more “we’ll see what happens” — we’ll choose what we make happen, as much as we can. But I think Tammy’s “It’s about time!” was not the only response of its kind among those who’ve known either of us over the last decade and a half.

Mom’s Diagnosis and Death (a story in three parts)
Mom dying of lung cancer was a foregone conclusion — there’s no getting around that, at least for me. I’ve got a relative who thinks the fumes from the salon chemicals had a hand in it, that busting her sternum a couple years ago somehow triggered the cancer…but I think most can agree that poor health choices, a genetic predisposition, and smoking as much as a pack and a half a day over 35 years set this course in motion long ago. It doesn’t make me any less sad and I’m sure I’ll also have moments of blinding anger about the part she could certainly have controlled — but it wasn’t a surprise. She was already on borrowed time, and we’re all lucky to have the memories we do of brighter days with her.

(That said, I continue to reserve the right to lose my shit. It’s only been two months.)

The Temporary Roommate
The Roomie moved out before Christmas. It worked for what it was and it was meant to be a short-term solution, but I think I may have reached that point where I should limit the people I live with to the man in my life and anyone we create. The Roomie and I are still friends and I wish her all the best on her upcoming assignment — and I hope the move back whence she came is less traumatic.

A lot has come out of this year, and the blessings continue to outweigh the burdens. I am more myself now than I have been in almost 10 years. I am able to love and be loved again. I am, in spite of everything, very, very happy.

So, happy 1st birthday, blog! And many thanks to everyone for joining me in carefully excavating my navel, plucking out the lint, and examining it under a microscope. I would not presume to predict what the universe has in store for me for the coming year, but I do hope that posts in 2009 will be a little heavier on the Things To Celebrate than Things To Mourn.

Heavy on the snark, of course… 😉