I have "writer's block" not because I have nothing to say, or even because I don't know how to say what I have to say.
I sit paralyzed in front the keyboard because I never intended to use this blogging platform as a place to air my dirty laundry.
But what do you do when the things that are indelicate to talk about have grossly outweighed all the "appropriate" topics?
I could show you my fall home decor, but I'd rather tell you about how much it hurts that I don't have the kind of friends who will drop in for a quick chat or favor, and end up staying for dinner or a bonfire. And maybe it's me, or maybe it's society these days. Either way, I think it's rude when people pull in your drive and don't even turn off their vehicle engine. Maybe their intent is efficiency, but it translates to "I am very important and you are not, and I am so busy and important I can not even let the dust settle before I must go be busy and important with people who are not you." I am lonely.
I could tell you that we are going to the homecoming game tonight, and how excited I am, and how perfect the weather is for a Friday night football battle, but I'd rather be honest about how tired I am, after running errands and being responsible all day, when the two people I most love to spend time with got to spend their days enjoying the weather and choosing the companionship of other friends. I am jealous.
I could tell you how much I'm looking forward to my "girls' night out" birthday dinner this weekend, but what emotions I'm really tamping down are sadness and bitterness and self-pity for reasons that I'm not going to share here because even in my hurt, I'm protecting everyone else. I am woefully acommodating.
This is so pointless....
No one is reading any more.
My wisdom dried up with my baby loss posts, and these recent attempts don't benefit anyone.
But I wrote for a week; I met my goal.
And now I can go back to just paying a doctor to deal with the mess in my head.