One of the greatest things about starting this blog has been discovering and reading the blogs of other people. I’ve always felt that each person is a story, and so life is like a giant, unending and fascinating book. I’m still figuring out how to navigate the blog world. I have no idea when I read the post of another person if they’re well followed, established, new, famous, or infamous. It’s like closing my eyes, and opening a giant book at a random spot, putting my finger on a page, and then opening my eyes to start reading at whatever sentence I’m pointing at.
Some of the blogs I’m following have nothing to do with recovery from passive aggressive abuse, but they have everything to do with Life. I read posts that bring tears, bust an audible laugh, or make me stop, stare, and think deeply. Often I want to share those with the readers here, at least in the form of accessibility.
I say to myself, “PJ, you should really fix and update some things on the homepage. It’s probably a simple thing. You just need to Add Resources with clicky links, and show which blogs you follow (etc. etc.). A simple thing.”
Then I think to myself… I should... and an invisible hand reaches briefly and softly sweeps within the space of me, touching tentatively as it feels for the energy required, for some spark of extra resources that I can take to the task. Such a simple thing. I should be able to think clearly, focus and figure out what I need to do. That hand comes back holding only a silent reproach that I try to excuse myself for. Promises for later. Maybe tomorrow.
What happened to the person who used to take on new tasks and view them as an enjoyable interesting challenge? To the teenager who was undaunted when asked to help order and stock a brand new little general store on a resort? The eighteen year old who was told by the new resort builder/owners that they wanted to book a ‘name’ for their opening weekend to sing, and in the days of no internet, she still found the way to contact and book that singer? Where’s the mother who helped create and launch a private school? The once above average amateur photographer that traded photography for private school tuition for a few of her kids? The woman who felt no fear to drive fourteen hundred miles alone and find a new house to rent? Where’s the little girl that crawled fearlessly into a dark huge tank of sludge to free a plugged drain for her father? Where’s the young mother that took a day seminar for actors just for fun (with no experience), and after performing with a random partner, was asked by the teacher from the Screen Actor’s Guild where she’d received her training? Where’s that crazy fun loving kid that climbed trees to read books (even through high school), and thought nothing of hanging upside down from a branch? That girl walked up to a strange horse and persuaded it to let her ride without saddle or reins for awhile. When that girl ran in track meets, she was the anchor in the relay race, even though she was not quite as fast as the starting runner. She was the anchor because if her team was falling behind, it made her run even faster.
I can’t find her. She’s like a faded memory from a book I read long ago.