I know when I begin to lock myself away from people, there’s something wrong. A balance that is missing or weight that only comes from not finishing what you start, or said you would anyway. I know that when I don’t want to open my arms and welcome people that there is something going on.

This blog lay dormant from Friday to Monday. That never happens here. This place is usually packed with sharing from daylight to dark. An opening for the loving of people. And that, is something that isn’t right. Where I went, where it went I’m not sure. I know it never stays gone for long, but in the silence, I worry. Silence breeds nothing but time for It to creep in.

I write posts and save them. I write others and delete them. I report on life in quippy one liners on social media. There’s no depth about it. No real. No me. I fade a little.  And so today I bundle myself up and get brave. And say it, as it is, in the hopes that it does what it always does and disappears it. Reduces the wave of feeling to nothing so I can create something.

I’m writing because it all feels like it is falling and this is the only way I know how to bring it back. I write because life is hard work some days, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but it is. I question myself, my choices and abilities in a way that only undermines everything I have. I wonder if my questions are even real. Or if it’s back. I blame myself, and It, for the negative track that runs in my head at the moment. You can’t. You won’t. You never do. 

It’s posts like these I don’t even edit. I don’t read them once they are done. They are an outpouring, a purging of all that is negative and ugly. Ugly. Like a darkness of someone un-saveable. It flows through and out of me and I pray that none of it sticks to you as I rid myself of it. Life’s good. And sometimes, I destroy it. Usually for a moment. Sometimes I am all that stands between myself and everything. Sometimes a post like this is the only way to pull that wall down.

In fact in moment like these, when I come to the end of a purge like this. I know. It’s in the sharing that I live my life. That it’s in the opening of my heart and my love. It’s in the expressing what it is like for me that makes me smile and my day feel lighter. I think that’s the point. The point of speaking. Of sharing. Of loving.

And as I always say, it’s not the ones talking {or in this case blogging} that you should worry about.

Worry about those that are silent. 

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