This morning felt the same as so many before them. My eyes popped open before they should have. I lay in bed hoping that my fatigue would overtake me again and I would drift off to dreamland. It wasn’t to be, so I got up and I padded over towards my MacBook that was patiently waiting. I wanted to just grab a cup of coffee and watch the snow fall outside, but the story was burning in my fingers.

So many mornings start like this, and I know so many more will again. I will sit at my kitchen table, with my border collie warming my toes and pour that thought that’s been bouncing around in my brain into a little WordPress window. It’s solitary, the creation, unless I’m trying to keep my kids fingers out of the latest recipe or craft while I photograph it. It’s still, quiet, and a little meditative these early mornings.

The writing, the crafting of it, seems almost religious. But it’s alone, behind your keyboard. You hit publish and you wonder if anyone but your mom is truly reading your posts. Sometimes you publish when things out on the ledge and you throw up and want to revert to draft. There’s more to this though – there’s an entire community behind you. That’s why I came back to Blissdom Canada again.

We all come back from behind our keyboards because we are searching for that human connection. We want to know the people behind who bled a little on our screen, the bloggers that make us laugh out loud, the writers who have us nodding our heads along with their words. I came last year, a newbie, panicking like I was writing that big story. I came back for the richness of the connections, the learning, and to be uplifting by the amazing women who surround me that pound the keys like I do.

I had the joy of taking my partner with me, and watching her discover Blissdom for the first time. I saw the conference through two sets of views – one of a returner and one of a brand new attendee. I met up with people I consider trusted friends, even though I had never met them in person before. I felt this one more deeply, one speaker had me in tears when she recounted her experience that I live the other side of. I was so grateful to have my best friend there patting my arm, because she knew it would trigger me.

We will throw down on all the rest of the conference experience soon, but thank you, friends! Thank you for being there to educate us to higher heights, making me laugh out loud, answering our questions even when they are dumb. Thank you for calling me out, talking through the rough bits, and letting us teach you what we know (or think we do anyway). Thank you for listening with your whole hearts; thank you for letting us call you part of our tribe.

End of an era? I don’t think so – more of an another new beginning.