As I once again pour my heart out onto my computer after writing for hours on paper, I note dismally, my stats are “down” not “up” as I’d hoped they’d be. That is, compared with a couple of years ago, my readership is dwindling. It never was, very robust.
Well there was one time in Oct of 2021, when a bunch of people signed on (97) all at once; in groups of six, they “studied” a few essays. Nothing has come close ever since. Usually readers come in dribs and drabs.
(Last night, I almost deleted my website. It feels pointless to keep at it anymore. At least I wish I didn’t need to see the stats- which are at a trickle for both readership and viewing, but there seems to be no way to turn them off.)
But then this is my pride that’s wounded, not my ego (ego in Latin means “I am”), my pride is bruised by the constant ignor(e)-ance.
I remind myself, these verbal expressions are of my pain and anguish. Maybe by sharing them I’ll help even one and maybe by sharing them, my burdens will lighten.
Neither son has read more single essay nor wish to- though I’ve shared, what I’ve considered the ones most upbeat and readable -such as “Dearest Little One”.
Until now, they think astrology, mysticism, and spirituality are bogus and for misfits. My ex- would readily say these subjects are for “losers”. No wonder I hid and mostly continue to hide this side of myself from him.
My ex- has read exactly one – the essay about his accident.
Some days it feels so hard to be al(L)-one without family or even a friend instead always playing counselor and caretaker.
So there, I’ve said it.
I’m going to do some chores now. I’ve got to get ready for my sons coming down. We’ve had an intense week of phone calls with our friend’s passing away and its circumstances. They’ve been distraught as you’d expect. Dad is with his girlfriend away on the continent of Africa.
Cheer me on; I’m ~2 weeks clean and sober (but that can and may change).
I’m glad my “soul retrieval” is stabilizing.
All is Inshallah, I know, though sometimes I need to vent a little.
The picture above is of a pouch I made from an elk hide I picked up when my then-husband was set to deploy to Iraq for the first time. I keep a crystal in it reminding me about my truth of self. I’ve carried it in my purse for over a decade.
