I Am Here.

 So, I’ve started a blog. What a neat time. 

This first blog post is kind of like a sticker on a map that says “You Are Here,” and that is pretty great and all, but how did I get here?

You can call me Rune and I’m a writer… that is to say; I want to write. So that’s what I’m doing, because writing makes you a writer… right? 

I’d like to say that I’ve always been a togetherslapper of words, the idea of being a storyteller felt like a calling… some ancient bardic song in my bones and blood that would lure me out into the rain to stare into small puddles and imagine they were lakes and the little ferns that sprung up around them were forests. I would spin tails to myself about the lives I could live and when I would go to bed at night I would build castles in my head to fall asleep, creating worlds brick by brick, then the people who lived there, then I would dream. 

I’ve always wanted to write. And with that desire to write came the fear of… well… actually doing it. That usually comes from the first time you create and share it proudly and then receive the dreaded feedback, you realize that if you stand back that first thing isn’t good and… well, shit. Next thing you know you create but are too shy to share, you hide it, you grow. Until the next time you’re ready to be vulnerable and it sucks AGAIN. 

That alone can be enough to scare anyone away from following that little tug toward potential. It scared me, and honestly, still scares me. Because I want to write, beautiful words are my life and I have worlds inside of me that are dying to escape. Books saved my life as a kid, they gave me a world adjacent to the one I found myself trapped in, a place where I not only could belong but did belong. I want to give that back. 

But how did I get here?

I suck at a lot of things. Namely, being a good, functioning adult person. To be more specific, I live with depression, anxiety, and agoraphobia that has robbed me of the world. 

Yes, the world. 

I used to travel, I used to dream of travel and adventure… not like, I took a tour of Italy and ate spaghetti. No, I wanted to Adventure folks, Indiana Jones style where I’m exploring basements in museums, navigating catacombs under ancient but still very much alive cities. I wanted. 

Then a few years ago things changed, before the pandemic, before I even had a good reason to be afraid it hit me out of nowhere and I was stuck. My world became small. So small. I’m talking I could barely drive to the end of my street small, and suddenly I went from visiting friends in Toronto and taking road trips to wondering if I could even start my car. There is more to this that I won’t get into right now, maybe not ever. The ugly, gross, angry reasons why my brain failed me in what might be the most critical way. I have made small strides toward normalcy, little things here and there that are so mundane but to me they are milestones in a tortuous obstacle course that has made me want to lie down and die more times than I even want to think about. 

I want to write about worlds, and I can’t explore the one I live in. 

But here, what is here? I wish I could define it. 

Here is a 35 year old woman who can’t afford a house, who might not ever get to be a mother, who drinks entirely too much coffee and not enough water, and still buys her clothes from Hot Topic because she refuses to grow up. 

Here is a woman who is familiar with rock bottom and clawing her way back to the light, only to get a sunburn. 

Here is also this first step. 

I am here also means I am alive.

This blog will be about survival, and navigating the world. Little observations and moments of the sublime, for good or bad. 

Here are a few other topics I’d eventually like to touch on and try out:

• Give me a writing prompt and I’ll do something with it.  

• Reviews on books, movies, shows, podcasts, and whatever else I come across. 

• Probably video games too.

• Cross stitching stuff. Fam, I cross stitch because sometimes a girl needs to stab something a few thousand times. 

• Nostalgia, because I lived through the 90s and my eyebrows survived the 2000s. 

I’m sure there are a lot of other things that might be included over time, this is just the start. 

I am here.