For as unique and individual as Waldo seems to be, does it ever strike you as funny that he’s so hard to find? I mean, seriously. Bright red and white striped shirt. Goofy hat. You’d think he’d stand out in a crowd.
And then, there’s me. In a sea of other bloggers. Getting noticed, lately anyway, for my post on head lice. ‘Tis the season, I suppose.
But that’s all I’ve been getting noticed for in recent months. Previous, old, archived posts.
Because the recent stuff? Hasn’t been all that inspired. Oh, save your sweet accolades. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.
I haven’t been very inspired lately.
This panic/anxiety has been kicking my butt. But I get up, every day, and push through. As long as I’m moving forward, I’m happy. Well, as happy as you can be when you’re struggling.
But it’s a tough moving forward. This hasn’t been easy. And I’m dying to feel like me again. I get depressed and manic and so not like the glass-half-full me that I used to know. And that makes it hard to write. I feel my best writing is when I’m passionate about something or tickled by something. My moments of passion are fewer and when they happen and I’m moved to write, I can’t sit still long enough to get it down. And the goofy things about life that tickle me? Fleeting.
I know. I’m a mess.
But some of you are still here. Some of you still peek in to see if I’m still alive. And I just want you to know, that touches me in a way I can’t adequately describe. You know me only through a computer screen yet you care like I’m you’re long lost sister.
I’ve lost quite a few readers. I know that. And I don’t blame them for leaving. I’ve thought about leaving, too. But to those of you who are still here? Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Knowing that my voice is heard, even when it’s only a whisper, means something to me. It helps me to feel that maybe, someday, I will find myself again.