Interestingly enough, my first official blog is now MIA. In life, yet again, my first try failed.
I am new to the blogging world as a writer. I read blogs regularly as a source of professional development. Why do I not write personally? I guess b/c I have always felt no one really wants to read my thoughts and they surely do not want to see how I feel.
I am a loner. A true loner. I have a large, social family and my job requires me to constantly connect with others. I would prefer to be alone with a book and a pencil and a notebook. I crave the intimacy that comes with being by myself. Being around others is exhausting and some days it is so hard to maintain my composure. Some days the mask stays perfectly in place and hides my pain and true desire. Some days the mask slides and out peeks utter imperfection that blindsides those who get a glimpse.
I want to love life and live it to the fullest. I want to be here for my children and one day my grandchildren. What I do is not the same. What I do is run to the confines of my bedroom and hope there isn’t some event that will pull me into the world. What I do is ignore invites and make excuses not to hang out. What I do is feel sick. This is me. The ugly, real me.
“I never found a companion so companionable as solitude” — Thoreau