It’s both an incredible and incredibly odd sensation to have a voice and not know how to use it. Sometimes a little wandering in the desert provides a glimpse into just what might be worth saying.

I've been on a modified bedrest for the past 8 weeks or so, but really my silence began long before. Maybe I was saying something, but I can't imagine that those words carried much weight.

So I stopped.

I was talking to my sister about this sort of identity losing - and - finding and asked her if she ever felt like there was a part of her that she didn't know (or at least didn't understand) that would come to life every now and again to make some sort of claim on her life.

"Emily," she said, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

But as it goes with life sometimes (like when you learn a new word and then all of sudden you hear it everywhere) my mom began to recognize how she might make decisions reflexively and that this other self might be responsible. A friend described it as an evil twin she shared her body with (my other self seems a bit more benign).

Looking back on the previous decade I see that this other self functioned as a sort of calibrater; I see her influence most often after times of transition. And that's probably because times of transition have a way of stripping me down to the bare minimum: Faith, family, functionality.

You'll notice friends didn't make it on the list. Neither did anything regarding self, especially no self care. These times find me either over-or-under weight, you see, because it's hard to be healthy when healthy just isn't a priority. Thank you notes, social outings, yard work, house work... all seem to fall by the wayside. Just the bare minimum. Just what absolutely has to be done to function. Just keep functioning.

But then, this other self pops up and says, "Girl, go get your hair highlighted. Update that make-up palette." And that's usually the first indicator that survival mode is over, my whole self can come out now.

I don't know why my other self tends to lead with the superficial. Maybe I wouldn't recognize the sign if it were too pragmatic.

But this time, I think she called me back into solitude, into a necessary silence. If I didn't have anything worth saying, why say it at all?

And now I feel this compulsion to share, to say this is what's real and what I'm doing about it. I want to take my abstract thoughts and form them into concrete words in the hopes that it will be healing for me and grounding for you. Who knows? Maybe we'll be more alike than we know right now.

I started this online journal because I love El Paso and I wanted others to love it, too. But you know what, I'm a homebody - a proud homebody - and I don't get out enough to do the city justice with my written works.

But I also know is that I love this life - this messy, mundane, magnificent life - I'm building in El Paso and that is something I can speak to.

So here it is, my El Paso life and style. I hope that there's something you can take away from this online place to better your time either in this southwest city or in the life you're living beyond.

It's Been Awhile (Thoughts on Blogging and Life in General)

brockhoff.emily@gmail.com