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Here’s to words, and you still reading them.

Last updated on October 23, 2018

I have become stretched thin.

It did not happen quickly. This was a slow thing. Life and growing old are things which–like children giggling behind oak trees in full summer–play hide n’ seek with your heart. In one moment, you see the slip of a shadow behind the trunk of the tree but you believe you have all the time in the world to go hide.

In the next moment you take off to your perfect hiding spot but you’ve been caught.

Out of the corners of my eyes I have seen the flickering shapes of my age, but I didn’t dare look.

In the span of six months my life has changed so much.

I have lost my mother to diabetes.
I have been diagnosed with the beginning stages of it.
I have been diagnosed with the family’s high-blood pressure and bad cholesterol.
I have gone to places in my head that were so dark that I did not recognize the thoughts that were inside of me. The things which I found inside them were so strange it felt like someone else was thinking them.

And around me, 2012 for my friends and family started with sour notes all around. One moment I was a princess of media-making, and the next I was grown up and helpless. Unable to figure out what words to say, what words to write, and what messages I could possibly give everyone to let them know I’m all right. We’ll be all right.

For a time, I was wordless.  Completely.

That may have been as scary as when I despaired the most.

I want to tell you that I am okay. And that the words may not be perfect or come back the same way…But I’m still here.  I am a little pulled and pushed; like a soft eraser. I may have some blackened edges from scrubbing away at all the charcoal–but I am here. And I will do my best to get back to what I do best…Being ridiculous and reviewing games and trying to laugh.

But for now, I’m thin.
I have become stretched thin.

It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I realized that as thin as I pulled apart I would find someone there with a word or a phrase or a hug–their piece of thread offered to sew a hole closed. It’s not so bad falling apart, it was the self-imposed silence, the wordless spaces on my part that made it worse.

So. Here’s to words and writing and all of the friends I have made here in this space. To my husband. And to finding the means to make all of you read and smile here again.  I look forward to it.

Published inPersonal