Checking in

I haven’t had much to say here lately so I haven’t said anything. That’s a change for me, a real growth experience. For a long time I’ve felt this compulsion to log in and type no matter what, as if I had some obligation to…what? An audience? Three people read this blog, and zero of them care. I know this for a fact. None of them send up flares or dial 9-1-1 if I don’t blog for a couple of weeks or days. I assume they know I’m living my life, as they are living theirs. Also they know how to text me. But I felt responsible anyway, to keep showing up here and spitting out CONTENT. I don’t anymore. I finally let myself let go of that.

I went to see a therapist a couple of weeks ago. I’ve entered a period of my life that has a shape and a shade to it that I don’t understand, and my usual tricks aren’t working. Deflecting, ignoring, avoiding. I can’t cheat my way out of whatever this is (it is “aging,” FYI). It’s also anxiety and stress but something else, too, an awareness that something structural is shifting—not only hormonal and physical but foundational. Elemental. Nothing is more boring, I know, than hearing people moan about their midlife crises and search for meaning, which is why I haven’t said much lately. I feel weird and uncomfortable and a little dumb, to be honest, and I prefer to do this dirty work offscreen and in person for a change, as I’m no longer convinced that I can advance by clicking and scrolling, either. I’m not sure I’ve made the healthiest choices in the last couple of years, life- or brain-wise, so I’m learning how to turn myself in different directions, more slowly and with more care.

Anyway, I got myself a bike and I’m joining a writing group and I’m getting a puppy, and I’m not making any promises to anybody anymore.

Later taters,
kg