The beginning

Well, in picking out a new name for my blog... I searched many words for exactly what I wanted. I came upon: Journey of the wandering phoenyx... why? Cause it seemed to fit what I wanted to express in my new blog. It seems that I need to get my thoughts and memories down. Not so much for anyone else, or any one's sympathy but for my own good. I need to let go of things, and up until now I have not attempted that feat. Why not you may ask? It was easier to carry my guilt, depression, sadness, and the black hole around with me kind of like a cloak. This blog will serve as my re-birth... yes, that's a wonderful term. I plan on sharing my memories and hopefully will be able to say what I have needed to say for so long.

Why a new blog? Well, because I needed some form of expressing myself without ridicule or hindrance from outside sources. I needed a fresh start. I need to be able to come here, feel comfortable and stretch my wings. I have so many things to say, and so many ways to say them that I don't think that my old blog would of been the appropriate place for them.

I remember when I was younger, playing at the feet of my family thinking that was the safest place in the world. Right there, under the dining room table listening to them play cards and talk about the world around them. Many things were discussed at that table. Family, politics, gossip, rumor, health, and religion. Those days don't happen anymore, not just because I am too old to hide underneath the table but because my family has dissolved. The glue that held us together, my grandmother, is now gone and her memory I fear only exists in me. No one speaks of her, as if she is taboo, but she is still there. The house that everyone came to every Sunday is still the same it was 10+ years ago. I see my grandmothers face in my mother, I see her wit and sarcasm in myself, and I see her intelligence in my little cousin. Back to my point, back then the world was sitting underneath that table without a care in the world. I knew nothing of loss and heartbreak. I realize now that even back then my grandmother was sick. More sick than I knew about. I have very fond memories, some of which are starting to fade and I hope to be able to finally put them down to look back and cherish.

I am not telling my stories for people's sympathy. Though some of them will probably hit people hard, might even shed a tear or two, but I am here, I am still breathing and I can't bear another "I'm sorry that happened to." Well, guess what folks? I'm sorry it happened to me to, this is my way of finally dealing with it.

So, I shall leave y'all with this quote who I'm not sure it's by.. but I'm trying to live by it.

"Experience is the only teacher that gives us the test before the lesson."

-Good day