Maybe you’ve been wondering, or maybe you haven’t… why I’ve not been writing in the past year.
The most obvious excuse would be the pandemic, but it wouldn’t be the only reason. The world has changed a lot in the past year, and the risk of writing has changed along with it.
The risk of writing? What possible risks might be involved here? Fingertip blisters from racing to put words into a laptop? Back spasms from long hours trying to find just the right punctuation on a witty retort?
Don’t I wish.
Fact is, when you put yourself out there by writing what’s inside you, and I mean what’s truly inside you… that’s a hefty risk to take. That’s a lot of exposed vulnerability.
Letting all that vulnerability pour forth, sometimes you forget. You forget that there are people out there who aren’t like you. People who never let others see their own vulnerabilities, people who deny their vulnerabilities, people who find fault in your words and then choose to attack.
They don’t realize that your words aren’t aimed at them in particular. They see themselves there and then attack from a place where their own misery lives.
Those words terrify.
For those who may not realize, I’m actually an empath. I feel much more deeply than most. So every day, things hurt. It’s one of the reasons why I can write about things the way I do.
I don’t want pity. I’m just saying that on a normal day, something can be said or done that cuts me to the core that most people wouldn’t even notice.
I’ve learned to keep my reactions on hold until I can get somewhere alone to deal with them. Sometimes it’s just a tear, sometimes it goes nuclear.
In the past year, and probably for the past several years, it’s becoming increasingly less common for people to simply move past things they just don’t agree with and more and more common for them to take offense and then take aim at those who’ve seemingly personally offended them.
Now I do realize that sometimes I have an unpopular view on things. I know not every story is going to hit it out of the park, and some will be more of a swing and a miss.
It happens. But what’s really tough is when people who don’t like what I’ve written decide that I’m a terrible, hateful person who is singling them out.
All I can say is that if I’m going to go after you, you’ll definitely know it, baby.
Because when I do get good and angry and decide to say something, there’s no doubt who I’m talking about and why I’m angry about it. I don’t typically hold my cards close to my chest, especially when I’m getting something off of it.
But I’m getting a little off the topic here.
It’s been a rough year for everyone, and my loved ones and I are no exception. Over the past year, I have shed tears time and time again over the continuing stress and horrors of the ongoing pandemic; the continuing political nightmare that deeply divides our country; and the personal struggles my family and I have been dealing with.
To be honest, things got so dark that for awhile I found it impossible to get through the days. I had nothing uplifting or positive to say. I found it took all my energy just to get the most basic things done, and even then some days I would literally just sit silently and stare at the walls, wondering if God had forgotten about us.
Deciding to continue writing was a very cautious and difficult decision, but I think it’s the direction I want to head in. It seems like I still have something to offer and something valuable to share. I know not everyone will agree, and that’s okay.
I know there will always be bullies and critics out there ready to pounce. But I also know there are many who take comfort and joy from my words, because so many of you have reminded me of the times my words have pulled you through and inspired you. Thank you for that, and for the times you have echoed my own words back to me when I needed to hear them. It’s a very sweet gesture that means more than you know.
So like it or not, I’m back, baby.
I think it’s gonna be worth it.
Photo courtesy of Zach Vessels, via Unsplash