It’s been quiet around here because I’ve been floundering a bit. Which takes a lot to admit, isn’t that weird? We have no trouble posting all the shiny brilliant parts of our lives on social media, but when it comes to the tricky parts, the stressful parts and the sad parts – we suddenly get all shy. I suppose sadness is personal, it feels more private, while we are more comfortable with our happiness being public. This all adds up to a perfect storm, as we’re constantly seeing only the happy parts of someone’s life. It’s completely distorted.
I’m nearly 40 folks. 4-0. How cool is that, that I got here? When so many don’t. Which is why I don’t see any reason on this planet why I should hide my age. Or feel embarrassed. Hush, I’ve dared to grow older! Don’t tell a soul! Let’s all pretend we’re still 20! How silly. And how unfair.
It’s been a funny thing, not blogging for a while. I didn’t think I’d miss it. Some ex-bloggers I know said that it would take a bit of getting used to, but eventually the desire to share my thoughts with others would wear off. Well, it hasn’t for me. What do non-writers do when they have a thought in their head that simply won’t simmer down? Do you wait patiently for it to go away, like an irritating fly that won’t stop buzzing around? Writing seems a way to lay my fears to rest, or articulate my thoughts more coherently, or simply work through an issue. It feels like a yoga class for my brain. Without this platform, I feel a bit cooped up. Like I’ve been sitting on an airplane in a tiny economy class seat for 10 hours and no one has allowed me to get up and stretch my legs.