I want to write. I know that writing can be a positive way to handle…life. Pain. Hurts. Feelings in general.

I do have things to say, I suppose. But I don’t know that I can express myself. Well. Any more.

If I knew all the words for all the emotions with which I’ve been wrestling, I could have written a novel. In just the last 5 months.

But I don’t.

I have been using other people’s words to try and share my feelings. This helps.

But they’re not MY words.

I seem to have misplaced my ability to string together words in a consecutive order, with which to accurately share what’s on my heart and mind.

I suppose it’s fear that stops me. I’m afraid of judgment. That usually comes from my own tendency to judge other folks. I do that.

Judging comes from my defensiveness, because I feel inadequate and insecure. I guess at this point I’m afraid of what else is going to be ripped away from me.

I admit that this is where trusting God has to come in. Don’t I trust Him, though? I do.

Someone said that “faith and fear can’t co-exist in the same place”. I don’t know if that’s true or not. I have faith that God is in control. I also know that He is working things together for my BEST.

I also know that the process of growth and change can sometimes include great pain.

Growing Pains.

I don’t have as many words as I once did. I can’t think, as I once did. I am not the same person as I once was.

Not worse or less than, as a person. Just different.

Very much different.

Please don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want pity. Pity is really a BAD thing. I don’t pity me. I don’t feel much at all for myself, really. But certainly not pity.

So, for now, I allow myself to be numb, emotionally, as much as possible. The more I can get through today, without thoughts of tomorrow or yesterday, the better. That’s what spirituality is, right? Staying. In. The. Moment.

The good news is, while I may have been placed in a hole, and covered with dirt…I am, in fact, just about to start sprouting.

I’d love to know I’m not alone…please comment below.


Would you be my, could you be my…


The one man who loved me just the way that I was.

…won’t you be my Guest Blogger? Hi, Neighbor! ๐Ÿ™‚
So, do you now hear Mr. Rogers’ voice singing in your head? And the “ding-ding” of trolley cars?? Yeah, me too. Just checkin’.
Regardless of whether or not you recognize that handsome fellow, I’m looking for some help. The time has come for some brave and wonderful soul to be my very first guest blogger! I’ve not done this before, so I hope you will be patient with me. If you would be so gracious as to write an Intro for my readers, and then answer 2-3 questions about your own experience with mental illness/addiction, PLEASE leave me a comment below, saying as much. I haven’t any idea of whom I particularly want, but there are a few of my fabulous readers that I’m really hoping will step up.
Don’t be shy!
Remember, kids, “a friend who cares is a friend who shares“. ๐Ÿ˜‰
Look for a way-cool bit of Special Guest Bloggishness here-abouts, soon. (Woohoo! Are you excited? I am.)

Posted from my cabin in a pasture.