I’ve been trying to write something all day, but whatever I’m feeling one minute I’m feeling the opposite the next, and it’s hard to generalize the flavour of a day that way. So why do I even feel I have to write anything? I admit, I’m beginning to see the point of people who think that maybe I do expose a little too much of myself through blogging. Do I really need to share the minutia of each mood swing as I work my way through this? Where does therapeutic blogging end and pointless navel-gazing begin?
I so desperately want to say, “Okay, that’s done, I’m better now. Let’s move on. What should we talk about today?” I want to say that because I want to be done with the hurting, with the anger, with the deep welling sadness. I want to tell you that today was better than yesterday, and all signs indicate that tomorrow should be better still, and that I won’t be this depressing forever, or even for very much longer.
And yet, I am not there yet. Of course I’m not, I realize it’s only been a few days. But I want to be done. I don’t want to linger in sadness. Despite a bright and energetic start, the prevailing mood of the day has been melancholy. I was in the grocery store (where I spent over $150 and came out with only three days worth of meals and a lot of crap) and I kept thinking about the people around me and wondering who else was harbouring secret grief. Who else was barely coping on the inside but looking normal on the outside?
Scratch this post up to sheer tenacity. I said I’d post each day in November, and by god I will post each day in November. Besides, I still have a lot of bloggable lint left in my navel.
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