I posted on my main blog some thoughts about blogging for ten years. In that post, I talked about how pleased I was that I blogged most of my pregnancy with the Munchkin. (I have some gaps from lack of Internet when I didn’t move hand-written stuff to the Internet.)
I decided to go wading through old posts just now, which was probably a bad idea. All the same, I came across one from November 25, 2003 — 18 days before the Munchkin was born. Looking back at this now, I ache in ways that I didn’t know to ache then.
I’m so confused as of late. I just want to curl up in bed and hide from the masses. But that makes the days last twice as long, I’ve noticed. So, if I just keep completely busy… I won’t have time to think… “I’m going to miss her so much.” “I’ll never be good enough for Him.” “I don’t know what I want to do with my life.” “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” So, I’ll just do things like… plan to make three deserts for Thanksgiving, plan on three different dinners on Thanksgiving day, do lots of laundry, make plans out the wazoo, visit old friends, write letters, write entries, and all sorts of randomness.
I’m trying to hide. But I’m not invisible.
This is one of the rare posts in which I allowed myself to voice confusion. I talked of sadness often, but not confusion. I wonder what — exactly — I was thinking then. I wish I could be a fly on the wall of that memory. I wonder if I would have listened to Future Me. Probably not.
I am grateful for those writings. But they are very difficult for me to read. I’ll save them again for another day.