Exactly a year ago yesterday, I sat at our dining room table with my husband waiting for a phone call. We had just returned from our honeymoon in Italy; a wonderful 12 day experience that capped off the party of our lives preceded by months of careful planning.
A few days prior to the wedding, I had been called into a conference room at work and I remember sauntering down the hallway thinking how sweet it was that the people I worked with were throwing me a shower, or some other wedding related party.
Sadly, that wasn't the case. Instead, with my boss on the conference phone and the HR girl sitting across from me at the big oak table, I was given an 10 minute inquisition over my personal blog. A blog that I had kept completely anonymous for three years. A blog where I had discovered how much I loved to write. I was asked to pack my things for the day and leave and they would do their best to figure out what they were going to do with me.
The wedding came and went and it was amazing. No one could have taken that away from us. And we left and headed to Italy to eat fresh pasta dishes under privately-owned lemon groves, shuffle through the dust of Rome and get ourselves lost in the maze of Venice. On the last day of our honeymoon, we received notice that I was to stay at home on Monday and wait for a phone call at 8:30am from my boss.
So there I was, dressed up for luck in one of the sweaters that we had given to our bridal attendants as gifts, sitting at the dining room table with my new husband, waiting for the phone to ring.
It's been year since that day when I softly pressed the red button on the cordless phone, folded my arms on the table, lay my head down on them and sobbed. Sobbed for the job that I had loved; sobbed for the husband I thought I was disappointing; sobbed for the loss of newlywed innocence. A year of anger, hurt, tears, misunderstandings, disagreements, sadness. But also a year of new beginnings, challenges, loves, desires, and happiness.
I've been down this road before and it didn't end well. But here I am, ready to try again. Hoping to find what I was looking for in the first place: my voice.
I am a writer. I write what I know. I am funny. I am real. I am not always good. I am sometimes great.
I am a writer.
This is my blog.