Ok. This is it.
This is the type of post that future me will likely cringe about when she reads it.
But I. Don’t. Care.
Gotta mark this moment somehow, even if it’s addressed to my most faithful crickets.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Not just here on this website, but here in my zone. Or one of them, at least.
Walking on the treadmill, listening to one lyricsless song on repeat (today it’s Lone Machine by YOTTO), and being interrupted by J, my husband, giving me a kiss, wishing me a good day, and reminding me to be ready at 6 p.m. to go watch a horror movie.
Where was I?
Oh, yes. My treadmill zone.
Typing on my laptop, which is sitting on the best purchase I’ve ever made (apart from my Brooks shoes): a little gray tray that lets me move my laptop up and down as I please. I place the whole thing on a wooden surface J made for me a while back.
So I write and I walk.
I walk and I write.
Forgot how good this feels.
Anyways, here’s more of my characteristic rambling.
What can I say? It’s been a long while, and a lot has happened in this weird transition where I went from Mary Bejarano Moore to Mary Jho Moore.
Where I went from being exhausted on all levels, depleted, depressed, and feeling trapped in my own body, to feeling a big pocket of air in my lungs. Feeling alive. Feeling more aligned with my choices. Feeling more connected and more ready to connect with others.
A few months back, I didn’t want to interact with anyone whatsoever, let alone pour my heart out in writing. The thoughts were too dark anyway to feel comfortable sharing, although I’m sure more than one person would’ve related.
I did write sometimes, but mostly kept it private in my digital journal. I didn’t even have the energy to write in my physical one.
I didn’t want to chat with my friends scattered all over the world (the price of being an immigrant), partly because I was afraid they’d ask how I was doing.
And I didn’t want to answer with the truth.
But I also didn’t want to answer with a vague “fine, and you?” because that would’ve felt like a big fat lie.
I was far from fine.
Too depleted to explain why.
Too concerned about being judged.
Too concerned about being treated like people needed to walk on eggshells around me.
So here I am now, finally done with the nitty gritty of changing my domain to reflect my new name for this temporary lifetime.
Not exactly in a “I AM NOW MARY JHO MOORE!” kind of way.
It’s more like, okay, this is the name of the character playing Mary in this lifetime.
My soul has no name, but it’s flexible enough to accept the ones given to it in this realm.
I do feel excited, though.
Relieved.
Because honestly, I could’ve just canceled the whole thing and moved on from blogging.
Why bother?
I haven’t exactly been consistent, and my insecurities and impostor syndrome tend to get the best of me.
But I was reminded of something I used to say back in my MBM blogging days:
“It’s not a bother. It’s a calling.”
So here I am, slowly dipping my toes back into this calling ocean.
No agenda.
No expectations.
No niche.
No structure.
Yeah, I know that’s probably not the best way to do it.
But I’m bringing two things with me:
Heart and action.
This is me taking action on something I feel utterly unsure about.
The tapping on my shoulder gets annoying if I ignore it for too long.
Not in the “ugh, I HAVE TO DO THIS” way, like doing laundry because otherwise you’ll have nothing decent to wear to work next week.
More like:
I have to do this to nurture my soul.
I’m done with the neglect.
This feels as necessary as water and food.
As music for my ears and air for my lungs.
As pens to draw my doodles.
As healthy hands to pet mossy trees.
As having people who get you without much explaining.
As expressing myself in ways that bring me joy.
So I guess all this rambling is just my way of marking the day I come back.
Not as a new me.
As the me that was always there.
Buried under stress, pressure, depletion, depression, overthinking, and insecurities.
Here’s to more moments like this.
Welcome to my little messy, unniched corner of the internet.
If you want to know what to expect from this blog, just expect unexpected things.
Thanks for reading.
Mary Jho Moore
Mary Jho Moore 