It’s been some time since I’ve posted, not out of an intent to ignore my readers (what few must remain!) or this journal, but only because I’ve been both busy and feeling a tad vulnerable.
The past month has seen my daughter baptized (and what a fiasco the was having so many people over – the gifts she received just about covered the cost of tossing a weekend long party for twenty people), my job transitioning to the west coast, without me, and then of course the whole falling down the stairs, laid up, physical therapy thing (maybe a week left of that?).
Toss in a job search in the middle of the worst recession since the Great Depression and the stress has been interesting.
It’s not that I’m feeling over-burdened (I’m not), but more scared that there is some other celestial boot anticipating my next move and gleefully preparing to clobber me about the head. Fear? Quite probably. Self-doubt? There is some present. I think though that my lack of writing really comes down to feeling vulnerable.
When I write I open my heart and mind to try and create powerful words that have meaning and impact, purpose and resonance, and accessing those parts of my mind and soul can sometimes be dangerous. I don’t always like laying everything out here for people to see, and while that was the whole point of starting Courage I am feeling reluctant to do so now. Maybe it’s the whole primal John Wayne-father syndrome (MUST BE STRONG FOR FAMILY, GROK!), I don’t know, but this entry is a step in confronting it.
And no, this wasn’t a planned entry, and I didn’t proof read – stream of consciousness, baby! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, as Ric Flair says!
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