I’ve come to talk with you again.

Sad that this blog seems to have become the dumping ground for sadness and confusion. Then again, maybe it’s just become the safe place for all that’s real.

I suppose ideally it will be the people who want to read the real me who come here. Anyone else will just be put off, and that’s okay. 

I don’t even know if I have anything to say today, so I’m not completely sure why I’m here. 

Natalie Goldberg says writers are noted for battling depression. I remember reading that and thinking maybe that explains some things. I battle it with some regularity lately, but thankfully I do still have the gumption for battling it instead of crawling into a hole and letting it have me. I don’t plan to wind up where so many famous writers have all too quickly ended.

I’ve been processing a deep disappointment over the past week or so. As with all the disappointments that have come before it, I will come through it; it will just take a little while. Not the first time I’ve had my friendship handed back to me in unceremonious fashion, and unfortunately it probably won’t be the last. Hopefully each time I go through it, it will get a little easier. I can always hope. Maybe I can at least learn something from each one so I’m stronger in the end. I really don’t even want to talk about it any more. It’s over, just move on. I’m a big girl and I’ll be fine.

I’d really like to rekindle the writing habit. I miss it, and I’m fairly certain it would be helpful to get back to pouring myself into words. I may be doing some writing for Write Where It Hurts. I’ve always been better at helping others than myself, so maybe this is a good thing. 

I keep to myself a lot lately. It’s safest alone or just with Steve, who is my rock in this challenging world. Dealing with peri-menopausal hormone swings necessitates some measure of pulling inward, if only to safeguard those I love from the uncertainty of my emotions these days. I’m not the freak-out type, but I do get really sad sometimes and I’d just as soon not inflict that on anyone else. Lucky Steve, he gets me in all my realness, all the time.

It will just be the Pizzaman and me tonight while the kids are out. Just the two of us here in our quaint little house on Memory Lane, snuggled up together against the cold.