Today

I thought about taking a break from blogging or at least spilling my anxieties and more onto the virtual page. But I really don't want to because it's one of the few things I do that are really, really enjoyable. Hmmm-- enjoyable might not be the right word, though, as spilling my worries and fears is a relief and, at best, cathartic (one's identity cannot and mine will not be wrapped up in misery, even a common one).

I love having a place to put things that I love, whether it's poetry or photos or excerpts from movies and music and observations about mundane craziness. I don't love but need a place to parse out my complex thoughts on disability, of coping with challenges and getting through and into this life that I'm leading. It's far less lonely to do this, to think almost aloud when I know that someone, somewhere, is listening.

And then there's the inspiration -- the amazing storytelling that I read every single day. The poetry and design and crafting and incredible living -- the writing that I do offline has been inspired, I think, because of this sharing, and I don't think I could now do without it just as I could not stop writing.

I've gotten several emails over the last few days from some of you. Worried emails, sweet emails, concerned emails - that I'm in a dark place, that things are just too, well, too. And you are right. I am in a dark place, but it isn't unfamiliar and I'm not lost. I can see you and hear you.

In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.

                       Dante