Archive for November 1st, 2007

The difficult thing about keeping a personal blog, is that sometimes you want to blog about the deepest, most personal things, but you don’t want certain people to read it. This is that kind of post. All it can possibly do is mar my best friend’s perfect happiness, and I don’t want to do that.

[So Emilie, really, don’t read this.]

But here’s the rub: she has no hesitation about blogging about her greatest joys, and she shouldn’t. But for those of us who don’t experience much great joy in life, who have to create our joy out of the moments that merely aren’t exceedingly painful, should we feel hesitant to post about our feelings, which are just as valid, because they might bring someone else down for awhile?

Sometimes, I don’t talk to people for days because I’m in a depressive, negative mood, and I don’t want to inflict that on the people I love. Should I silence my blog in the same way I silence my mouth? Probably. But maybe not. I am who I am, scars and all, and my heart is full tonight, with my head spinning around in sympathy.

So, here goes.

Welcome back, old companions. Imagine finding you here, knocking at my door, so soon after leaving Emilie in her hospital room with her beautiful new daughter. My friend looked positively radiant, and her husband, so proud and solicitous of Emilie’s comfort. To see that young family there, with so much ahead of them, and the proud and loving grandparents hovering nearby, was the very image of perfection, of lives fullfilled, of dreams made flesh and love, of hope for the future. It was, in short, every good thing.

I had suspected that some of my familiar haunts would visit me this Halloween, but look! You’re all here again! Of course, Sadness, I expected you. You live just across the street and pop in from time to time, so I wasn’t surprised to find you on my doorstep. Fear, I hadn’t seen you for awhile. I thought you’d lost my number, but I guess you found it there in the bottom of your junk drawer. Self-loathing, I thought I had left you behind when I changed neighborhoods, but somehow you followed me here. Guilt and Failure, my oldest friends, no matter where I go, I always manage to find you there. You are very often the welcome wagon for my life transitions. You must have gotten my new address from Anger and Bitterness.

We had quite the ride home together, didn’t we? Fortunately, it was over an hour between leaving the hospital and getting home, so I was mostly able to hide you close to my chest when I greeted Tony at the door. I busied myself making pepper jelly tonight, and that was good, because it quieted you all down to a whisper. But you’re still there.

Look, we have a long and intimate history. I know each of you, and you seem to know me, as well. So its okay if you want to hang out for a little while. You can come in and catch up with me, but I don’t have time to be your long-term hostess right now. I’m trying to make new friends with some of my other neighbors, such as Accomplishment, Contentment, Inspiration, and Dignity. So, please, let me get you a glass of iced tea, but don’t plan on staying too long.

As they say, Visitors, like fish, start to stink after two days.

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