I didn’t intend to take a year off from blogging. I intended to take a little break and pick things up where I left off; fired up, finding my voice, setting the world on fire. In no particular order.
But life happened. The 2016 election triggered memories I’d never been ready to deal with before. My brain not-so-gently reminded me that we have a lot of work to do to get healthy. Long-buried past traumas seized me, and grabbed me by the throat. I broke down, and realized I needed professional help; that despite my best efforts to heal, I’d really only scratched the surface.
Just two weeks later, I was laid off from my job of 5 years; a corporate restructuring that left me in the dust. It was nothing personal, of course, but it certainly got me terrified about my future.
I had no idea how I was going to move forward with my life. My brain seemed like it was turning on me, and the security of my stable income was washing out with the tide.
Faced with massive uncertainty and self-doubt, I retreated.
I got myself into treatment for PTSD. I found a kind, patient therapist who runs a local mind-body wellness center. She gave me a safe place to unpack my past, little by little, and also taught me to stop giving so much power to it.
I learned to set boundaries with myself and others. I learned to observe my thoughts. I learned to stay silent and pay attention when what I really wanted to do was to set myself on fire and scream my head off.
With new tools and lessons tucked under my belt, I struck out on my own as a freelance writer/researcher/producer. Taking the leap was almost as scary as getting help, but ultimately led me to more opportunity and career fulfillment than I ever could have dreamed of. Today, I’m getting paid to work on dream projects I would never have had space for if I’d still been at my corporate job.
It was excruciating and beautiful in equal measure. I blossomed in totally unexpected ways.
With all of this amazing processing and learning happening, I wanted to write. But blogging became too cumbersome. Not because I wasn’t thinking or saying anything worth writing, but because I was in a sacred space: I was doing the work for me and no one else.
My inner voice told me to hold back for the moment; to get my bearings so I could come back stronger than ever. I wasn’t ready to share the many lessons I was learning through treatment and the rediscovery of my own life.
Now I am.
And I’ve realized I am ready for a change. I’m not the cute girl with a banjo I was when I started this blog, hoping for it to be a fun place for my musings. Don’t get me wrong, the banjo is still around (I’m currently covering the entirety of Taylor Swift’s reputation, because I am nothing if not consistently extra). But the cute girl? She has grown into a fierce woman who is a force to be reckoned with.
This blog has grown so much over the years: it’s amassed over 4,000 followers. It’s been featured on WordPress’s Freshly Pressed, syndicated by Thought Catalog, and shared by Brain, Child Magazine. CGWB is a project I’m immensely proud of. That said, it’s time to move on.
So, I’m very excited to announce that in the coming weeks, I will be migrating this blog to its new identity, Chelsea Processing. The content will still be much of the same; writings on grief, healing, social issues, pop culture and more. I will continue documenting my path to higher self, and may even introduce some other cool multimedia stuff, too.
What does this mean for readers and subscribers? The good news is, if the migration process goes correctly on my end (fingers crossed I don’t mess this up!), very little will change for you. If you’re a subscriber, you should still get updates, only they’ll be from Chelsea Processing instead of Cute Girl With a Banjo. The old content will still be available for viewing on the new site, and I will do my best to make sure all old links redirect to their new home on ChelseaProcessing.com.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your love, loyalty and support over these past 5 years with Cute Girl With a Banjo. You all helped make this experience incredibly joyful and fulfilling, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.
I’m feeling better and stronger than ever, and I’m so incredibly excited to keep moving on this journey.
Who’s coming with me?