To My Blog, With Love: A Healing Return

Dear Blog,

It feels surreal to be here again, like walking into an old room that still smells like me, like slipping on a sweater I haven’t worn in a while, but one that still remembers my shape. It’s been a while. A whole year, in fact. I don’t know if blogs have hearts, but if yours does, I imagine it’s been beating quietly in the background, waiting patiently, like a friend who doesn’t demand explanations but who still deserves one. A friend who knows that sometimes silence isn’t absence; it’s healing in progress.

You’ve always been more than just a blog to me. You’re my canvas, my mirror, my witness. A place where I’ve laid down pieces of myself—quiet joys, loud heartbreaks, fleeting thoughts—hoping they’d find meaning in your arms. A place that, somehow, has always held space for my healing, even when I didn’t have the words for it.

I wonder if you missed me. If your silence ever grew heavy. But I know you waited, steadfast and kind the way only an old friend can. And today, I’m not here out of guilt, but out of gratitude. I’m here to show up. To speak. To write. Because I have stories to tell, and I want to tell them to you where the healing began and where it continues.

The Gap Year That Wasn’t Empty

Over the past year, life did what it does best: surprised me, tested me, and changed me.

In April 2025, I took my very first international trip. To Marrakech, Morocco. Can you believe it? Me, walking through spice-laden souks, standing under North African skies, attending my first-ever international trade show—it was work, yes, but also wonder. It cracked open something inside me. A sense of possibility. Of courage.

But while I was boarding flights and chasing dreams, something else beautiful was unfolding. I began writing poetry. Just like that. It started as tiny lines scribbled between work notes and soon became a quiet obsession. Now, I find myself writing poems about the tiniest details: sunsets, strangers, silence, even coffee cups. It’s a whole new language I’ve started speaking, and you, dear blog, will soon be filled with that too.

The Highs and the Hurts

April 2025 wasn’t just about airports and adventures. My mother underwent her knee replacement surgery that month. It was a tense time, but the surgery went well, and seeing her slowly reclaim her strength has been deeply moving. There’s something poetic in watching someone you love learn to walk all over again.

But life, as always, came with shadows too.

I ended my engagement in October 2024. A chapter I had once written in hope had to be rewritten in healing. It hurt, deeply. But in that quiet pain, I found my self-worth again. I’m learning to choose myself without guilt. To rest in my own company. To love me.

And then June came with a different kind of ache. I went to Chikmagalur and stood among coffee plantations for the first time, marvelling at the green silence, but came back to the unbearable news that my dog Misthi passed away. It was sudden. And I still don’t know how to carry that absence.

There’s no perfect way to mourn someone who gave you unconditional love. Maybe I’ll write about it someday. Maybe you’ll help me process that, too.

Coming Home to You

So here I am returning. Not just as a blogger, but as a woman who has grown. Who has cried, travelled, healed, grieved, and created.

I want to write again. Not just about tech, but about life. About poetry, heartbreak, healing, and hope. About Morocco sunsets and Chikmagalur rains. About losses and little joys. About everything in between.

And you, dear blog, will hold space for all of it. You always have.

From now on, I promise to come back every month. To check in. To create. To connect. I’ll even post more on social media. Tiny verses, snippets of soul, slices of my story.

I hope you’re happy to have me back.

Because I’ve missed you.

With all my heart,
Monideepa