Don't read too much into this. But I gotta write it all the same.
I have been in a yucky place. And I am tired. Tired of feeling this way. I have the world's most patient and understanding husband. I have two wonderfully independent and challenging and adorable boys. I have a great job. I have a great house. I have great family and friends who love me even though I am a little crazy and hard to love sometimes.
But none of this seems like enough.
So, I am digging out. I am no longer comfortable in my lack of contentment. I am going to write more. That used to make me really happy...writing about my family or even just writing about some birds I saw on a fence while waiting at the CVS drive-thru. It made me happy. I am going to spend less time worrying about why I don't feel content because the very act of worrying about a lack of contentment appears to be poisonous in the quest for happiness.
Not sure how this is sounding. Haven't gone back and re-read and edited and wondered if I should say something a partciular way. I'm just typing. And I am about to hit publish.
Just wanted anyone who might still stumble upon this slice of the internet landscape in hopes of finding a recent post to know that I am trying to get back to the "me" that found even the tiniest bit of solice in writing. In sharing. In connecting. It's been too long.
No more yucky place.