Believe it or not, I have tried to blog.
This is probably the fourth or fifth time that I’ve opened up a “new post,” hopes flying high that my
writer’s block “blogging break” could be declared officially over.
I have things to say…I think. Getting them onto the screen feels something like pulling my heart out through my skin—pulling teeth would be much easier.
I’m not completely sure what it’s all about. I do know that I’ve been hiding in the cave again. I’m feeling pretty happy, but I’m hiding. Staying safe.
Safe from what exactly, I’m not sure. People, I guess. People are somewhat scary to me these days. Not the perfunctory interactions of work and small talk and family gatherings (I try not to get too deep with my family). Opening up feels scary. I realized not long ago that my heart is no longer as open as it once was.
And yes, I want more in my life.
And yes, sometimes I’m lonely.
But I don’t think I’ve quite reached the point where the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of changing.
So I’m hunkered down in my solitary cave, safe, warm, cuddling the dog, and pondering when and how I’ll make my way out.
But I’m healthy, I’m content (hence the not changing thing), and I am confident that I will figure things out. Someday.