Stories from a life in progress.

I don't know what to say next

Ohai, blog.  I've been avoiding you.

When last I was here things were not going well, and I was ready to punch things and scream with the frustration of it and then cry because it hurt.  I had just failed out (so it felt) in a big way with my work, and my nephew had hurt himself and I was feeling ill and didn't know what to do about anything.

That was a Friday.  The following weekend was full of my family and good events, birthday parties and holding babies and chatting with people I don't get to see frequently enough in person.  It was restorative, but it was also distracting  -- in the best possible way, because it just took my mind off the stupid and hard stuff for a while.

After the weekend I felt better, but I still had a sore spot about how everything had gone.  I didn't know what I felt about it, except vaguely bad and ashamed.  I didn't want to go back in and figure anything out more specifically.  I avoided writing, even avoided my journal.

I can't avoid writing forever.  I want this to be my livelihood, after all.

It doesn't feel right to just ignore the untidy end of the last story and go on, either.  Bitterly hard times uncover areas in a life which need tender care and healing, and this past hard time was no exception for me.  Skipping over it and forgetting means losing the chance to heal, even a little.  It means the next bitterly hard time will find me in the same state, with no greater strength or resilience or methods to deal.

I don't want that to be the case.  But, I still don't know what to say.  I don't know what to write about next.  I don't know what I'm going to do.

So ... hi, blog.  I've been avoiding you.  I'm not doing it anymore, I just don't know what I need to say next.  I guess this thing I'm writing will work; I hope the next thing will be better.