The simple answer is that Stepford Stories was no longer serving me. The original blog was a great ride, but when something is finished we should let it be.
The longer story is that Stepford Stories was never set up to allow me to be completely authentic. Sure, there were many truths I was able to express there that I could not articulate out loud at the time. Stepford Stories connected me with people I would have never met otherwise and who are still an important part of my life today. However, for all of my bluster about the inauthenticity of Stepford, I never adequately addressed the inauthenticity within myself. There's not a single post about the deep sadness I felt about my marriage. No mention of the paralyzing loneliness and the deep fear around when it would precisely unravel. To have written about those things, would have hastened its demise and I was terrified to let that Genie out of the bottle.
My fear was indeed so much greater than any suffering I experienced. I actually found that the fear is the suffering. Once I let go of the fear, what I felt primarily was free.
So, here we are. Let's see what happens when I write without fear. When I write from a place of love. I know this: Love is the only thing that fills the vacuum where fear has previously been.