Still Here
I've several times read the annoyed words of people who are exasperated to have read yet another blogger apologising for not posting anything. Who are they to assume people are hanging on their words? And they have a point.
But I know people keep coming here, and they keep finding nothing to read. And part of the reason for that is - paradoxically - that I know there are so many of you out there, waiting for something, and that paralyses me.
There never used to be so many of you before I had the miscarriage. There are three or four times as many of you now. That's pretty daunting all on its own.
I'm not someone who gets all depressed about the human race when confronted with evidence that we are interested in each other's misery. I slow down to look at car crashes, just like most other people. I don't think writers should be ashamed of themselves for finding their first impulse, when facing tragedy in their own lives, is to fish out a pen and document it.
It's a natural humnan response. We care about each other, and even when we don't, we're fascinated. We wonder how we would react in similar circumstances. We thank our lucky stars and not-so-lucky Gods that we're free of whatever misfortune we're witnessing, or we remember the times we weren't. That's fine, it's part of how we cope, what we are; it's confirmation of the connections we all share. It's better than ignoring one another. I've visited blogs several times a day when the blogger was experiencing something tragic or dramatic - been drawn to it all.
So anyway, I keep thinking things are, or should be better, but then I keep finding they're not. Physically I'm out of shape after months of increased eating and decreased exercise, and mentally I'm, well, unstable I suppose. I don't feel in control of my life.
But I'm muddling through, and don't seem to have much to say about it, or maybe just the energy to say it. I'm still here, and there are still plenty of smiles in my life.
Um. I wasn't intending to post anything - this just sort of snuck its way out of my fingertips when they were reaching for the "Shutdown" button, and now I'm taking them to bed.
Good night.
___
But I know people keep coming here, and they keep finding nothing to read. And part of the reason for that is - paradoxically - that I know there are so many of you out there, waiting for something, and that paralyses me.
There never used to be so many of you before I had the miscarriage. There are three or four times as many of you now. That's pretty daunting all on its own.
I'm not someone who gets all depressed about the human race when confronted with evidence that we are interested in each other's misery. I slow down to look at car crashes, just like most other people. I don't think writers should be ashamed of themselves for finding their first impulse, when facing tragedy in their own lives, is to fish out a pen and document it.
It's a natural humnan response. We care about each other, and even when we don't, we're fascinated. We wonder how we would react in similar circumstances. We thank our lucky stars and not-so-lucky Gods that we're free of whatever misfortune we're witnessing, or we remember the times we weren't. That's fine, it's part of how we cope, what we are; it's confirmation of the connections we all share. It's better than ignoring one another. I've visited blogs several times a day when the blogger was experiencing something tragic or dramatic - been drawn to it all.
So anyway, I keep thinking things are, or should be better, but then I keep finding they're not. Physically I'm out of shape after months of increased eating and decreased exercise, and mentally I'm, well, unstable I suppose. I don't feel in control of my life.
But I'm muddling through, and don't seem to have much to say about it, or maybe just the energy to say it. I'm still here, and there are still plenty of smiles in my life.
Um. I wasn't intending to post anything - this just sort of snuck its way out of my fingertips when they were reaching for the "Shutdown" button, and now I'm taking them to bed.
Good night.
___
Labels: Miscarriage
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