Looking Forward to Entering Rerun Status

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{Delete}
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{Delete}.
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{Sit. Stare. Consider. Delete.}

This is how this post began. After all of this time and very few readers, I don't know why I struggle so much with what to write. It's not as if I don't feel myself about to explode with everything I want to say. I do. I just worry about the tone. I wonder if I'll sound as if I don't care when I do, or unhappy when I'm really quite content. I'm an excellent writer when I'm told what to write and what someone is looking for. Here? It's like tying a note to a balloon. Once you put the words out there, there's no getting them back. I know that you can go back and edit a post after the fact. It still leaves the door open, however, for someone to manage to catch a peek. In my day-to-day life, I am pretty articulate...except for the times when I say a whole lot of nothing that has anything to do with what it was I was trying to say. I'm one of those people that performs an analysis of a conversation I had for days after it took place.

Like just now. Here I was, all set to write about the frustrating and saddening series of events that have taken place over the past couple of weeks, yet I just devoted an entire paragraph to writing about writing. How lame is that?

The past couple of weeks have sucked. It seems to have begun after the Haiti earthquake. My best friend of 24 years was enduring tremendous frustration and anxiety as her husband braved a journey down to Haiti just days after the earthquake with no firm plan or reliable means to get their son home. I was worried for her family, and I was sick for this country. Reading stories of people praying in the streets, begging God for forgiveness because they were certain they were being punished...I have no words for that. All I could do was find a way to help and try to enlist others to help. We ran into a temporary hitch at first, but things were quickly resolved. I visited my best friend, a service project for Haiti was underway, and things were feeling...just right.

When I received a phone call letting me know that someone close to me is terminally ill, I felt as though the air had been sucked out of me. I'm not as close to this person as I used to be, but I still feel so much love and concern for this person and the person's family. Since hearing this news, I have been thinking about it constantly. I think I've managed to get my head around the sick part. It's the terminal part that feels as though it's bouncing right out of my mind. I cannot get myself to a place where I am accepting the reality that last Christmas was the last Christmas where we would see the person. Easter, summer holidays, Thanksgiving...all times of year that I count on seeing this person, if only for a few minutes. So to picture those things with this person missing...I can't get it.

Work is somewhat stressful...school is almost done, but also stressful. My girls were sick...I've been sick. Things are just feel swampy and rancid right now and I am so looking forward to emerging on the other side. I look forward to these things being memories instead of realities.

xoxo