Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

“It’s not you.  It’s me.”  How many times have you heard that one?  Have many times have you found those words tumbling from your own mouth?  Often, we use that line in an attempt to gently extricate ourselves from a situation.  We verbally try and reassure others that the reason the relationship is ending is solely on our shoulders.  Which is usually a big bunch of hooey.  Usually, it’s both you and me, at least to some degree.  But it’s easier to shut a relationship down with a mea culpa and a (hopefully) graceful exit.

I’ve been considering a graceful exit from Bon Appetit Hon.  I had hoped that putting the blog on autopilot with my draft posts would magically get my head, and heart, back in this space.  But here I sit with all those “freebies” used up and I’m no more ready, or able, to dip my toes back in the water that I was a few months ago.  So clearly, that didn’t quite work out as planned.

I’m not sure what “it” is that is missing; I was never good at solving for “x” in equations, except in the most basic of problems.  And the ins and outs of life are anything but basic.

It’s not so much that I feel as though I’m being pulled away from BAH as much as it is that I’m not being pulled to it.  Five years is a long time to find new things to say to engage with readers, develop friendships, and reveal enough about myself to keep things interesting without veering into “clearly this lady is nuts” territory.  And between Exit 51 and BAH, it’s been almost five years to the day.

It would be overly simplistic to say that the events of the last year are responsible for this shift in my attention.  But it would be a lie to say that they had no impact at all.  Yes, there’s been some (ok, a lot) of reflection and introspection.  But just as none of that has told me it is time to put the brakes on this online journey, it also hasn’t told me to hit the gas and get moving.

If I look at the situation through the lens of my astrological sign, it makes perfect sense.  I’m a Cancer.  The crab.  Oh lord, am I ever The Crab.  I tend to come at things not exactly head-on, but from the sides.  I carry around an armored shell studded with barbs and accessorized with mighty pincers ready to clamp down.  And when I have outgrown my shell, I slough it off.  But I need to find the protection of a rock or a hiding place because once that shell comes off, I am vulnerable.  After my new shell hardens and I am safely ensconced in armor once again, I’m back on my way skittering around.

It’s the strangest thing to say but I feel as though change is afoot and I need to get myself someplace protected in order to leave this old shell behind.  I have said it a million times…Change is scary.  So part of me is still trying to hold on with both pincers while the rest of the shell wants to pull away.  Eventually, I will shed this carapace and leave it on the sandy bottom…a mere reminder, an outline, of what was.

So what does all of this mean?  Is BAH the old shell?  Is it the rock under which I will seek protection?  I have no idea.  It could be either one.  Or it could be something entirely different, something completely off my radar at the moment.  For the time being, I’m going to let this space just be.  It’s the one thing in the grasp of my pincers that I just can’t release just yet.  Maybe once this old shell is discarded I will find my way back to this spot.  Or maybe the tide will take me someplace different to grow into new my new shell.

Wherever the tide takes you, and me, I hope that our paths cross again.

11 thoughts on “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

  1. Wendi, thanks for exiting so gracefully. Go forth and find that place of protection you need! And whether you decide to reappear on this blog or another–or not–I wish you the absolute best. I hope the adoption thing works out well and smoothly–and if it does, stop in and let me know, because I’d love to rejoice with you.

    1. Jenna, I have been so profoundly grateful for all the relationships BAH has allowed me to develop. Discovering those new friends is probably what I will miss most…and maybe what will get me back to the space in the future.

      Thank you for being part of this journey with me. And I can’t wait to read that your baby has arrived!


  2. You’ve had so much to deal with this year. It’s not surprising (nor a crime) to feel a little scattered–I’m going through the same thing. Be kind to yourself, okay?

  3. I know how you feel. I’ve been struggling for some time now, almost 2 years, to keep my blog alive. To what end, I do not know. You’ve handled your potential exit gracefully.

    I do hope I see you again sometime. I think about you and your future little one often, and will continue to do so. I am still using the lovely wood butter you sent me to care for my cheap old wooden spoons.

    Best of luck on your journey, I hope I get to see what your future holds.

    1. I really do think I will return in some fashion…I’m just going to let it tell me what shape it will take. Because the community that I have found is too energizing, caring, and nurturing to just walk away from it forever.

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