The fact that you’re reading this means you already know that my blog has moved. I think I’ll say it anyway, though. Look. My blog has moved. You get pictures and bigger print now. Exciting, huh?
I moved the blog to correspond with the upcoming publication of the book I’ve been writing and trying to get published for forever and a half. I think, I hope, I pray that it will actually see the light of day soon. This has definitely been a marathon and not a sprint, but I can see the finish line and hope I can manage to crawl across it.
While moving and reformatting old blog posts, I paused to read the first one I ever wrote, from May of 2012, more than seven years ago. In the post, I laid out the reasons for and against starting a blog. Interestingly, they all still apply. I still struggle with chronic illness and the fear that I won’t be functional enough to keep the commitments I make for myself. I still have a hard time deciding how to divide my time and limited energy, and I still spend much of it improving my living environment. I continue to wonder if my efforts to educate will make enough of a difference to counteract the emotional toll it takes to think about these issues on a consistent basis.
On the other hand, I also still believe that educating about toxicity issues and advocating for the chemically ill is something I’ve been called to do. I persist in believing that it matters. I think it matters a lot.
When my husband died and I was forced to figure out the logistics of my newly single MCS life, I gave myself permission to back off from working on the book and posting to the blog. It wasn’t easy to move to a new city, turn a garage into an apartment that was MCS-safe enough for me to live in, make sense of my new financial picture, and figure out how to buy groceries and do all the other things that Dan did for us when he was alive.
Honestly, though, my hiatus was caused by more than just logistical challenges and time management issues. When Dan died, much of my motivation for working on the book and blog died with him, in part because he was such a strong supporter of my efforts. I didn’t want to do it without him. I didn’t want to do much of anything without him. It felt too hard to run this race without someone on the sidelines cheering me on.
Dan isn’t here to cheer me on anymore, but God still is. And you’re here. Thank you for being here. Whether you’ve been with me on this journey for years, or are newly on board, I’m truly grateful that you care enough about this issue to visit this site and read this post.
Together we can increase our understanding of toxicity issues and spread the news that seemingly small decisions about products we use can have big consequences. Maybe we can help ourselves and others to avoid cancer and heart disease and MCS and headaches and fatigue and irritability and depression and a myriad of other symptoms and conditions that limit us. Maybe we can help the church regain strength. Maybe we can make a difference. We have to try.