It’s been a long year for me. Every day brought challenges that I thought I could handle and get thru without any help. And for a while I did. And then I couldn’t.
Things don’t always go our way because our way isn’t the right way. It’s not the best way, it’s just the way we’re comfortable with. The way I was comfortable with was to just keep everything in my head and hope for the best. Maybe I was also hoping that in my sleep it would all go away.
It never did. On reviewing this site and if I wanted to keep this running, I found the journal entries I had made. Just three. Nothing too special, but they were real and raw. Something that sounded foreign to myself after reading them. While reading them I felt a pang of emotion that remembered from last week. The further I read and thought, the more the memory came back and eventually I wrote again. I wrote in my planner until I couldn’t write anymore.
It’s was freeing. Writing this was freeing. And as much as I want to say that I’ll be back around on this for certain, I can’t. The most I can say is how intoxicating the freedom this blog has given me. I badly want to continue. But freedom is exhausting, and being alive has never been my forte.