I’ve been distracted. I’ve been busy. Actually, that’s kind of a fib, or a half truth, or slightly inaccurate and misleading. The real reason it’s been a while is that I fell into the devious hole of self-doubt. To extricate myself, I had to convince me that there was a purpose to having a blog and putting my thoughts out there for total strangers to peruse. Not that anyone would bother to come and see what I’ve written, much less read what I’ve written, anyway. And why should they? Of the gazillions of blogs out there, why in the world would anyone want to read what I have to say. Sure, my family might visit out of curiosity. But aside from them, who really cares? And so, it just began to feel rather presumptuous of me to expect that thousands of people would even give a shiitake.
Covered, Not Contained
Truly, I never expected that I would fit in that hole. I hid it ever so carefully under the runner next to my bed, although hidden continued to grow till one evening I simply fell deep within it. I couldn’t for the life of me get out. The rug had fooled me into thinking the hole was contained, out of sight and too small to cause harm. But it had grown there beneath the fibers, laced and intertwined into colorful patterns of harmless and effervescent daisies, so that as I stepped on the edges green and earth-toned, I slid down, runner and all, into an abyss, deep and debilitating. Once there, my every effort to climb upward met resistance, slender, ivory talons clawed and cajoled, sucking me deeper.
Self-doubt is a powerful foe, perhaps the worst foe ever. It feeds itself so that each time I revisit it, I find it more powerful than the time before. It is the kind of foe that can only be conquered head on; and even then, perhaps only confined. Even in the wildly successful, it has a home in a forgotten space, a corner down deep where it lurks and festers, peeking and poking. The only recourse is to confront it and perhaps accept its companionship. It’s there. It will always be there. But I needn’t fall in.
Hey, Imaginary Reader
Actually, that is all on the creative front. In my real world, I have been busy, providing ample excuse to forgo using my in between moments to write. I moved into a new home…a first home, actually. I’ll give more detail in another post. I’ve been writing curriculum for high school learning modules, time consuming stuff. Also, my mother has slipped further into her mind and we were forced to start hospice for her, which I will address in still another post. Do you care? You, nebulous imaginary reader? We shall see if you do.