Grateful two times

Thank you, from the bottom of my overwhelmed little heart. Thank you to everyone who left comments, personal anecdotes and words of encouragement. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions and be kind.

I am just like you, and occasionally shy to comment, so I appreciate it immensely if you broke your normal pattern and left one.

There is one thing I do need to clarify. My main question was not so much regarding the comments and my lack thereof. It's true that I measure myself against them sometimes, and I do bug about it when I write something and there's not much feedback. It's perplexing to me. Why some blogs get tons and others hardly any. It might be a silly question, of course we all have our preferences of matter, but I remain curious.

Ever so often, it feels like I'm alone on an empty stage with the occasional passerby glancing at me, stopping and giving a smile. While other times a look of, "that poor crazy girl, talking to herself again". And there are instances when I feel the warmth of applause, I would never discount that. As a very talented and wise friend of mine said recently, "no one wants to talk to the bottom of a well unless he's 5-years old, or insane". I love that line. I wonder if spitting off a bridge is comparable. Anyway...

This time I was more interested in what keeps you all going, for those of you who are sending your words out into the blogosphere. I personally feel that it's a brave move to do this. I'm sure there are those who don't care, or those that have clear agenda's, but this is still rather new to me and with a mood swing built for the likes of Shrek's ass, I still have anxieties. You see, my feelings about most things rotate like a pig on a spit. They're not a constant. And very hard to keep up with. Fucking A to that.

What I've discovered from your replies, doing some reading and a lot of thinking, is that people do this for all kinds of reasons. What matters most is figuring out why I'm doing it. And why I should keep doing it. It's becoming clear. I do have a need to write. More than ever in my life, a need to purge what's bouncing around in my head. Clear out this bingo-spinner of thoughts.

A life-long fault of mine continues to rear its ugly head. When I try too hard, paired with expectations, throw in a dash of anxiety and worry, it's a recipe for failure. Intellectually I recognize this in myself. Emotionally, Quick-Draw-McIrrational-Grumpybutt forgets. Last week I forgot.

The most important realization I've learned in the last year is directly related to my on-going experiences with cancer. When you go through a traumatic event in your life, be it a death, an illness, an accident, whatever red-lines on the shit meter, you have to create a "new normal".

Reacting to an every day event can be completely unpredictable. It's surprising, then scary, then sad. It's not something you can really prepare for. And you can't figure it out until you've gone all the way through it, like a bull in a china shop. You turn around and say, "Holy crap!" "Did I break all that stuff?" "How the hell did that happen?" "Ohhhhh, I know. I ran through there waving my arms like a crazy person. Next time I'd better keep my hands safely in my pockets." "Duhh."

Then you hope you'll remember. And if you don't, you'll try again the next time. And as predicted, another situation arises and you have to figure out how to handle that one, because most of your old tricks and tactics just don't work anymore.

I suppose these types of changes everyone experiences. As we move through life, growing and maturing, they're subtle. Being thrust into a life-altering situation speeds up the process and it takes your head awhile to catch up.

This is what I've experienced as a result of that stupid fender-bender. The day of the accident I was all kinds of breezy. Understanding, cool, calm, cofuckingllected. Then the next day I woke up sore, shaken, and exhausted from spending the entire day on the phone being poked and prodded by insurance companies. And kaboom. My new peaceful demeanor was as scratched and dented as my bumpers.

I was shocked and disappointed. Throttled with worries. Tripped by insecurities, imagined and battled. It's disappointing to know that I still have triggers that will send me sailing 10 paces backwards, but this is my new normal. My emotions have been re-wired and I'm still learning the manual. And I fucking hate reading directions.

But I'm shaking it off, like the kick-ass rockstar I am, and I will figure it out. As I do this, I'll write about it. And I hope you'll enjoy it with me.

Thank you again. And then one more time.