Lost: the write feeling

It’s been so long since I’ve written anything of substance, I think I’ve forgotten how it goes.

This isn’t another “I’m staring at a blank screen, with the cursor winking and winking, taunting me with my lack of inspiration…” posts – in truth, I feel rather apprehensive about it, as though the cursor might, at any moment, leap from the screen in a death-strike, or the lid of the laptop slam shut on my fingers, gnashing and howling in anger at my pretensions. I’m not comfortable. Not for me the sweaty palms and raised heartbeat of sudden anxiety, but a sullen, gnawing discouragement in the pit of my stomach, and a darkness on the peripherals of my mental horizon – Danger! – don’t do this…

Writing used to give me such a high. I remember spending my days accompanied by a notebook to jot ideas before they flittered away, replaced by more and beautifuller; and the way inspiration could wend its way into my mind through almost any situation, casting enchantments over me, compelling me to share stories of my day, my thoughts, my imaginings, my perspectives…and there were people ‘out there’ to lap it all up, to give encouraging feedback. To care.

People…ah, people. The lifeblood of my extrovert’s heart, and something I used to crave so much. Approval. Acknowledgement. Acceptance. So many wonderfully affirming things were possible in the leap of several people scrambling for “FRIST”, and oodles of comments, conversations, and connections, which happened in the spangled wake of each new post. There seemed to be too little time to keep up with everyone, and I squandered sleeping hours at both ends of the day in order to be present, to be part of things, to be there.

Little by little they fell away, like early autumn leaves at first, quietly rustling off the tree of my little community, slipping away through the branches and wending their way on the winds to more interesting arenas. Perhaps it was because my posts were less raw – things were settling down, and once I’d opened enough veins and exsanguinated the stories of my depression, my miscarriages, my failing (now dead and buried) marriage – I became…boring? Dull. Commonplace. No longer in dire need of shoring up or encouraging, I became someone who wrote prettyish stories when she wanted to, and tried to add her five eggs to conversations about Things Going On In The World. Of course, there was the Thankful hop, but there was always the thankful hop…and guess what? Ten new things every week: not First Class Reading Material.

I’d lost the write feeling.

Lost the write feeling - summat2thinkon.wordpress.com

Gradually the tree of my community became barer and barer, leaving stark holes against greying skies. I saw once-regular visitors leave their calling cards on other people’s blogs – I *knew* they were out there, but alas, vibrancy was occurring elsewhere, and I was passe. Shelved, in large part, and left behind.

Envy threatened to overwhelm me at first, simmering in the depths of my heart, coating its walls with vile slime which burned with the thought “should have been ME”. I desperately twisted words into the prettiest patterns I could muster, juggling styles and genres in a Cirque de Sorrow, as I threw post after post into an ever-widening gap, no longer able to fulfill the je ne sais quoi that made them worthwhile reading.

Bubbling envy chilled to stony withdrawal, coupled with Dramatic Life Events (finalisation of my divorce, a sudden collapse and subsequent surgery) which I felt too flummoxed to share, or was in too much pain to write about, and block by block I built that stone into an invisible wall of social-media incompatibility – for the first time in years of writing, of being part-of, I was Out.

Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of the circle.

The Blogosphere had moved on, and there were newer, fresher writers to tantalise, with sparky political posts and relatable parenting anecdotes. There were people in desperate situations ready to bare all, to be shored up and gathered around. There were others going through Life Events which drew attention, attraction, gathered readers to themselves like moths around a lantern, batting off the sides of those Elsewheres in order to be IN.

I recalled the warning once given me “There are always those people who read you, think you’re an idiot, and leave without saying anything”, its caution looming louder in my memory as tiny bit-spiders spun cobwebs of 1’s and 0’s into the corners which now held damning quiet.

I peered through my stony wall, fingers once well-accustomed to the sleekness of keys, now scraping across the rough edges of exclusion. Jagged, that shape, and long-familiar, with sharp corners which fit well with the janks and kinks of my body, reminding me “you deserve this” – after all, hadn’t I done it to myself as much as anything? Hadn’t I somehow alienated my readers? Hadn’t I distanced myself from them, believing in the gauzy pedestal of fleeting endorsement I’d been placed on by the once-keen attentions of scattered Whoevers? Hadn’t I seen my folly when it collapsed beneath me, landing me harshly on my rump (not only to no jeers, but to no attention paid whatsoever), engarming me with a set of ass’s ears so fine a fairy queen, bedazzled, may well have fallen in love…

Perhaps my mistake was in travelling to make people Real – that having met me in person, no staunch reader could ever again partake of my thoughts without aligning it to flashbacks of the person they met. A fulfillment? A disappointment? An unexpected, with new filters applied to my existence, creating distance when the purpose of travelling had been to diminish it.

I cried bitter tears when I left, and still bitterer ones in the wasteland aftermath of gaping loss, which had shown my heart capable of expanding to new limits, now left echoing with the agony of missing them so much, and the guilt of finding so little contentment within the shattered boundaries of my Here. Would I have cried less or more, had I known the levels of inconsequence to which I would soon plummet?

Perhaps my passion waned, now caught up into the intricacies of relationships which had leapt from the screen into reality. Somewhere along the journey my words were stashed for too long out of sight, and their magic, forgotten, began to diminish. Perhaps in dancing too long through gardens of flowers made bright by the dazzle of Real, I failed to manage the thorns which crept in, choking everything to death in the face of my neglect.

Perhaps…oh, there are so many perhapses, all of which circle in and collapse under the weight of their own irrelevance.

The starter for ten was “When it comes to my emotions or words…”, and whilst most of what’s written seems to be sour grapes, it’s more (and less) than that. It’s desolation. It’s the emptiness of a once-thriving speck in the vastness of the Blogosphere now shrivelled, with half-hearted attempts at filling its veins once a week with thankfulness – possibly prolonging its inevitable death, rather than delivering revitalisation. It’s the thorn-in-the-side hunger-pang of a Once-a-writer whose wellspring dried up.

It’s resignation to the fact that all good things come to an end, and where once upon a time, my words were as silken lips to a lover’s skin; or sparkling sun-drenched meadows to eager, naked toes; or the punchy inhalation of that first steam-soaked sip of coffee in the morning, they’re now old tennis balls, out of bounce with the fuzz rubbed off, thrown pointlessly against the walls of the world I once revered.

Baff…

Baff..

Baff.

Empty.

Echoing.

Emotional?

 

I’m joining in with the ever-inspiring Finish the Sentence Friday hop in hopes of finding a pair of hands set to catch one of those tennis balls of mine…or to establish that I really am mostly bouncing off my own walls and rapidly into obscurity.

Finish the Sentence Friday

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67 thoughts on “Lost: the write feeling

  1. Pingback: Lost: the write feeling — Considerings – mnpsocialsites

  2. Alright, alright. Make some room in here already!
    It made me sad to read you write about the Ten Things in the past tense.
    There are many readers who just read. Don’t comment. Don’t participate. They come here to read your well crafted words, to read an anecdote or maybe stop by simply in hopes of getting caught up in your passion, share in your humor….there’s a whole world out there Lizzi. An entire planet.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m gonna keep going with the TToT for sure, but…not this weekend. This weekend was a struggle and a stress for many reasons and it just didn’t happen. Nice things happened too, but also not nice ones. But I’ll come back.

      And I’m glad you think people enjoy reading me even if they don’t say anything. That’s an encouraging thought. I never wrote just for me, and I rarely do – I write for an audience, and to be read. Which might make me a poseur but…whatever!

      As to the whole planet…I’m glad it’s out there, and I guess I won’t always be to most of it’s taste! lol.

      Like

  3. Your words matter, Lizzi – even when you feel like they don’t. I have similar emotions, but I remember that even if I never ever write again, I have the friendships (like yours) of people I would never have met without blogging.

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s true – and definitely something I cherish – those friendships transcend the page, because of what went before, whatever comes after. And thank goodness, really!

      Like

  4. I read this twice and I am having trouble figuring out why you would think your words, your writing, doesn’t matter? You don’t need to write about tragedy to compel us. This post about writing, or the lack thereof, is sublime.

    I always read your work. I don’t always comment but I rarely miss anything you write. Good writing is balm to my soul, and your work is as relevant as anyone’s. Matter of fact, though I write them, I’m not particularly interested in reading parental anecdotes!

    Relationships move in cycles. Even married people fall in and out of love. Perhaps your blog relationships are just in a down swing, poised to shift upwards again? I think so.

    You are so loved, Lizzi. Never forget that.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Precious, I so hope you’re right – I’ve really REALLY been missing the sense of community and exuberance there once was around here (and in the Blogosphere as a whole, really!) and maybe it’s a downswing which will turn upwards again. I hope so, anyway!

      I’m so happy YOU like what I write. You’re one of the people who inspires me because your writing takes me RIGHT into the situation and all its emotions, and that’s a skill I hope to practice (which, I guess, means I better do. more. writing!)

      Thank you for you, and for your thoughts, and for your friendship ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  5. This post very much resonated with me, Lizzi. I hear you and I understand how you feel. The words don’t come to me as easily as it seems they once did and it is disheartening. I also feel the way you do about community in the blogosphere, though I’ve never been as connected as you are. I think your writing is beautiful, it’s poetic even when it’s not poetry and it’s always so descriptive! I look up to you as a writer, I hope that someday my writing can be as lovely as yours always is.

    I hesitated in pressing the ‘like’ button on this post because I hate that you feel this way, but I feel it too in my corner of the web. My corner is collecting cobwebs, I have so few followers and I constantly wonder if my words matter at all. If I didn’t have you to encourage me I’m not sure what I would do. I love you ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Awww, my lovely friend, I don’t see my encouragement drying up any time soon – one of the things I love about blogging is getting to know the people behind the blogs, and I so SO enjoy our friendship (as you know) and your writing, too – it lends depth and texture and context. But BOO to us being in the same place with cobwebs and dark corners all over the place.

      You’re at least doing something to try to sort yourself out! I need to work on that, for sure!

      *HUGS* We’ll get there, I’m sure. Somehow.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. You’ve made me happy or at least content that I’m in my little niche with few expectations. You are a born writress, so I’m confident you’ll find a platform strong enough for the weight of your words and personality. It’s a healthy weight, although it seems to feel crushing right now. Do you see the gift you’ve been given? Whether frolicking or agonizing, your writing is alive with passion. You give life and shape to flat symbols. I’ve never read anything you’ve written without being changed by it in some way. If this door is closing, and I couldn’t tell, then a wider stage is beckoning. You’re too bright to go under a basket. Shine, Lizzi.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ohhh bless your boots! You just made me smile huge. I *hope* this door isn’t closing because I rather love it here, and the little bunch of people who DO keep coming back, even if others don’t and I miss them…it’s nice here. It’s comfy. I think I just need to pull my socks up and put more effort into it!

      Thank you for saying such lovely things – it’s wonderful to hear how you experience my writing 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  7. First, when we had that conversation oh so long ago, (I don’t remember it word for word, but I’m pretty sure I remember the gist.) it was in the context of a conversation that included all the good and wonderful comments received on blogs. The quote you remember wasn’t a warning so much as a reminder (for both of us!) to remain humble and keep in mind that not everyone in the world loves us. It wasn’t an explanation for a lack of comments. That’s a whole different ballgame.

    For example…

    I have not been writing and reading and commenting nearly as much as I used to. Like Kristi said, I think blogging goes in spurts, but it also has a purpose. For us, it has been a place to meet and connect and become friends with people. We are now to the point where we are friends. When I have time, I read my friends’ blogs. Sometimes I comment, other times I don’t. Usually it is because where I am and what device I’m using to read. But sometimes, I don’t read. I just don’t have the time. And I don’t feel guilty or feel like I’m missing out too much because we’re friends and I connect in other places, FB and instagram for example. I make it a bigger point to comment on blogs of the few people with whom I have no other way of communicating with them and they consistently comment on mine.

    It’s actually pretty similar to my real life. When I was a newer mom with young kids, I was always on the lookout for new friends. I was constantly joining in and talking to people, hoping to connect with some. But now, the second time around with the little boys, I don’t. I’ve got my friends and making more would wear me out. I don’t get to see my friends nearly enough as I’d like, so putting effort into making more just doesn’t appeal to me. Same with blogging. When it was new, we were out there getting to know everyone and enjoying sharing stories and becoming friends. Now, I have my blogging friends. I don’t get to keep up with them as much as I’d like, so making new ones with constant blogging is more than I want to do.

    Wow. that was a bit of a ramble. Hope it made some sense. 🙂

    Either way, I’m glad you are numbered as one of my friends. I’m thrilled that we’ve met not once, but TWICE! And I’m sure it will continue long into the future. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • It made sense, and I think I had forgotten the larger context of the comment – that bit really stayed with me, and I remember always that I don’t/couldn’t possibly appeal to everyone. I guess I’ve overthunk it into something which it wasn’t, so I’m glad for your clarification.

      I think you (and Kristi) are both right about these things having their natural cycle (especially, as Jesi reminded me, in summer, when people get busy) and how different it is once the friendships become real and thriving, rather than just things through the comments.

      I still miss the ins and outs and conversations and comments flowing everywhere and thoughts picked up and carried through to other blogs…that feeling of togetherness just seems to have dropped into more 1:1 friendships which don’t so much bounce off one another in the same way. Which is okay, and lovely in its own way. But different.

      Apparently I’m pretty resistant to change.

      Totally get what you mean about not having enough time to keep up with the people who already matter, though. Definitely.

      I definitely think our friendship will continue. And I’m planning a little something, which I hope will make you smile, when it happens 🙂 and HOORAY to us in Real 😀 😀 😀

      Like

  8. You pour your heart out here and I too always read. With blogs, it’s hard to get around to all of them with equal balance. Yet, based on the post I have going out next week, I’ve been taking a look at how much of what we blog could also be sent out for possible publication consideration before it makes it onto a blog or a self-pubbed book. You’re a great writer and I hope you are submitting to magazines and journals 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m not, mostly because I suck at submitting and I tend to write what I like and hope someone likes it (they don’t) rather than tailor a piece to suit what’s being sought. Perhaps I should make that my mission, just to try to cash in a bit on whatever capability I have, and get a bit more exposure and clout.

      I don’t figure any of my posts really worth collecting into an anything.

      Liked by 1 person

        • I like that idea. That sounds manageable. One piece a month, with an audience in mind. It would stretch me, at least, which can only be a good thing, right? You’re on the right track, I think 🙂

          Like

  9. “There are always those people who read you, think you’re an idiot, and leave without saying anything”. I wouldn’t put too much weight in that quote, Lizzi. I think it is just as likely that there are people who read you, appreciate your writing, but leave without saying anything for any number of reasons (can’t think of anything deep/clever to contribute; what they were thinking of writing was already written in another comment; too busy to do anything but read and fly; etc, etc, etc). However, I hear you and I can relate. My blog numbers are actually leveling off and trending down rather than growing (and believe me, they had all the room int he world in which to grow!). I get caught up in real life and can’t find the time, energy, or inspiration to write. I just have to remind myself daily that my value is not based on my readers/my lack of readers or their comments/lack of comments. When I write, I do it for me — not for them. If someone happens upon my blog and enjoys what I wrote, then that’s the icing on the cake. But the cake is pretty good even without the icing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I wish I had your perspective. It’s far healthier than mine! I think (okay, I definitely) I over-think and get tied in mental knots about it all and what a comment or lack might mean or imply, and mostly I figure that what I had to say (and by extension, me) didn’t matter enough to bother with.

      It’s a poisonous mindset, I guess, and perhaps one I need to work on changing. I never write just for me because why would I? I guess I do poetry for that, but here, I want to write to engage, to entertain, to enchant…and if no-one reads it (or people skip it) then I’m not doing a good enough job.

      Like

  10. I think I’ve written 3 about not writing. I think this hopeless, lost in the noise feeling is pinging around the blogosphere like laryngitis. For me, what with all the horrific news and election coverage it feels like an angry dark cloud. What do I have to add? Who cares what I think?
    I would miss your writing. Even your writing about not writing is lyrical and fun to read. You are loved – write when you are ready. 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • ❤ Thank you so much, my lovely friend. Your thoughts are so calm and soothing and I'm so glad of you, and of you sharing them with me. Thank you. And…yes. Black clouds everywhere.

      Like

    • That’s an awesome quote, and I’m so glad you still like me, and what I have to say. Thank you so very much ❤ (I feel particularly UNsparkly at the moment, so this helps, even if it's vanity or something…I'm not sure)

      Liked by 1 person

  11. It is a bit scary to comment on someone’s blog – I always think I will say the wrong thing! So I usually just like. WordPress has more writers than readers I think.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth, and it’s tough to try to keep up with anyone. I used to write nearly every day and people just got burnt out on reading my thoughts so often, so I curtailed a bit so I wasn’t so annoying :/

      I think as long as you say something pertinent to the content there’s nothing ‘wrong’, per se. The comments which are frustrating are the ‘great post’ type. That said, at least those mean someone new SAW what you wrote and probably read it. lol. I don’t get those.

      Like

  12. I have no doubt that you will come out of this (let’s call it a bit of a dry spell) stronger, more real, better and more relevant than ever. It’s a time (like winter) for growth that comes from a rest. You still do it for me.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. I am bad at reading these days. Worse at reading than even writing sadly, and I’m the worst at commenting. I ran out of speed. My blogging balloon deflated, and now I catch posts (like this one) when I’m scrolling through Facebook and have time to read.

    It seems this is a virus felt by so many. We all had this need to write and read and connect, but now I feel like The connection is really all I care about, and frankly, I’m also bad at that lately.

    But having met you in real life, I can say that your presence in person is even more glittery than your online presence, and darling you sparkle wherever you are.

    Liked by 4 people

    • Life changes, Squishy, and I think you’re right – this shift in blogging and not-writing, not-reading, is something a lot of people flounder into and get mired in. There MUST be a reason. The real connections are *wonderful* though, and I’m so glad you’re one of mine. I’mma keep you even if you feel you’re bad at keeping up ❤

      (and thanks…I try to spread a little sparkle when possible, as do you, I know)

      Liked by 1 person

  14. Ok so I think this is a natural thing of blogging… we get SO SO into it, and then we wonder why the fuck even and then we get a post that goes viral and we go back and then we think why the fuck even but really? It comes down to the people and to knowing them and finding true actual friendship and love and understanding and then we go back to it in the way that makes sense which is less and that’s OHFUCKINGKAY!!!! At least I hope so.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sometimes we don’t get a post that goes viral and we can’t see past the end of our noses to the good and best things which have come out of it, because like you say, why the fuck even, and who cares anyway?

      The actual true and the friendship and the love – THAT counts.

      Liked by 1 person

  15. I read you, and I get it. So much more than you know. Since January I have toyed with the idea of who-the-fuck-cares-if-I-write-or-not-so-I-might-as-well-just-delete-my-blog-because-I-have-nothing-interesting-to-say-anyway. I have a handful of followers and even less than that who comment on my blog. I’m a hack, a fraud, I’m not talented, and I’m never going to realize my dreams anyway. I stopped writing. I didn’t care. So many days I certainly didn’t. But then, something happened.
    A certain glitterbomber sent me a link to a weekly poetry contest. She entered and won an honorable mention (like I knew she would win something), and as intimidated as I was to compete against her (because her poetry is more amazing than mine) I went ahead and entered anyway. Apparently, her confidence in me was what I needed. A reminder that someone had faith in me. And I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter in the long run how many people come to my blog and read what I write. What matters is that people do find their way and even if they don’t comment, some do and those people have faith in me and think I’m talented.
    I think writers need to have a break because creativity does come with a price. It takes us whole and we need a rest to recharge our stores. You’ll come back when you are ready. As you keep telling me. ❤

    Liked by 3 people

    • Your thoughts and outlook and creativity matters to me. A lot. And your care and friendship and you being part of my world matters to me. A lot. I’m glad you didn’t give up writing completely and I’m glad you’re making your way back into it, and HUGELY glad for any way at all I can have been useful xoxo ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  16. Ditto on everything your WIFE said above!!! She conveyed it so well, better than I could. I understand many of your feelings. I hate that what was once an innocent, free-for-all release of emotions and thoughts at the beginning of my blogging career, has turned into doubt, hesitancy, insecurity and unrealistic self-expectation that every post has to be amazing. I miss just writing without worries. Writing naively believing that people enjoyed my words. Some read them, many didn’t. I kept going but like you, I felt that my stories were not interesting enough! They did not compare to others’ heart-wrenching accounts of tragedies and misfortunes.

    I found myself questioning every single topic I wanted to write about because, what if it was boring? What if I didn’t make it perfect enough? I still sit and wait for that innocence to come back (though, the loss of virginity is irreversible) – that I will not care or worry about every word I write. That I write for me (mostly) and not always for an audience. Sigh… I’m waiting for that day, Honeybee. I can’t wait to do it for me regardless of the critics!

    Love your words, always – even when you feel like you no longer have them or can’t find them. I love how you describe the loss of them – even that is amazing! I need you to keep writing so please, keep it going and maybe I will too. xoxoxoxo

    Liked by 1 person

    • My Honeybee, I have a few things to say to you, firstly that I ALWAYS enjoy your writing. It seems…irrepressible, in a wonderful, life-affirming way. I really enjoy your perspective, your outlook, your (often) ebullience, and just the YOU-ness of it! I really do. ❤

      Secondly, virginity CAN grow back. I'm pretty sure mine did while I was married…

      Thirdly…oh geez, the QUESTIONING, and constant second-guessing! I didn't used to do that but I think as I realised that What Was Getting Noticed had things like Cultural Relevance (and stuff) and I…had the contents of my own mind, which is admittedly an acquired taste, ergh…I used to be so arrogant about my writing, just kind of assuming I'd put it out there and people would enjoy it. It's that worry, now, that it's not ENOUGH, or enjoyable…and it's gotten to me!

      And…thank you for saying such lovely things, and…my BlogWife is WONDERFUL with how she puts things (one of the reasons I keep her when she's endlessly going off with other people! 😉 ) and you…YOU should definitely keep writing ❤

      Like

  17. OK, Lizzi, I get the feeling and, except for comments and such , I’ve been in a writing drought lately, but get this straight, this leaf ain’t coming off the tree. And, boring? No way! And, just a slightly ironic observation: Writing about not writing is still writing and your do it very, very well. [imaginary glitter bomb – Kaboom!]

    Liked by 3 people

    • *grins* I know, right? I did have my tongue quite firmly in my cheek for the parts of my post which weren’t genuinely quite whingey 😉

      And thank you! I hope I always try to write very well, but I know I just haven’t done ENOUGH of it lately. I miss it, and it’s getting sillier and sillier that I’m doing less of it the more I miss it.

      As to your leaf…may it be evergreen ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  18. Okay, back to the point. I *get* it. Even as your esteemed Blog Wife, I don’t comment hardly ever anymore (nor do I blog, but that’s another thing altogether), but I always read. The no-commenting is purely a fact of never being on my computer when I read you. Maybe I’ve missed a TToT or two, but I do read your words, my dear. And I know I’m not the only one. Sure things have slowed down in our part of the blogosphere, but don’t take it personal. You aren’t the only one. Blogging is a shit ton of work, as you know, and not everyone if up for that kind of marathon, especially long term. I know I wasn’t.

    Nowadays, I ignore most email notifications of new posts aside from a select few (you included) who have become my friends, and whose words I respect and cherish always.

    Never stop throwing your word-glitter into the blogosphere, Lizzi. People adore you and your words. xoxo

    Liked by 5 people

    • You’re so wonderful…I know it’s other factors too – people’s lives have gotten busier, other priorities have taken place than blogging…things shift, and there’s a natural wax and wane with these things. I just feel like I’ve been on SUCH a wane, lately, I’m not sure how to come back from it.

      I used to have such FUN with this – there was vibrancy and life and breath, and it was a great, joyful, self-sustaining carnival for a while, and I loved that SO much. Now I feel a little like the fading strains of oompah music as the wheels fell off my float and all the lights went out.

      I know you still read, my Lovely, and I’m so grateful ALWAYS for your support and encouragement.

      (and yeah, it’s all a HUGE shit ton of work but…somehow it used to be a lot more fulfilling, and I wonder if that’s because *I’ve* found fulfillment elsewhere, or…just because?)

      Liked by 1 person

      • It probably is because you’ve found fulfillment elsewhere, as well as other reasons that you mentioned, but it’s OKAY. You know? Maybe you don’t come back from it….and that’s OKAY. Maybe you do after a while, organically. Also OKAY. What’s important is that blogging served the purpose it so desperately needed to serve when you so desperately needed it. Now? Maybe it turns into something else for you…something less imperative and life-serving, as you shift to another chapter of your life. But your blog friends and the connections you made are here forever and ever. ❤

        Liked by 1 person

        • Less imperative, but damnnnn I miss writing! I really, really miss it, and the interaction, and the PEOPLE!

          But…I love LOVE that my connections here are some I’ve made for ever and ever. Truly. I still think that’s absolutely the BEST thing to have come out of blogging. Without a doubt.

          Liked by 2 people

          • Agreed. Can you imagine? You travelled the U.S. and it was only possible because of real connections that you made. YOU did that. And you affected people. You made a beautiful impact on so many lives, lives that are better for knowing you. You really are a shooting star, my BW. I mean that. I know you miss writing – it’s in your soul – which is why I know this is just pause in your writing whirlwind. So many more chapters to come….

            Liked by 2 people

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