In Absentia

by Michelle Lasley

Michelle Lasley is a mother, wife in Pacific Northwest learning to balance green dreams with budget realities.

March 11, 2013

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I haven’t written for a few days because I’m working on a longer post in response to a book I’m reading: The Defining Decade. If I had this book in my 20s, the decade in which it refers, I would have made some different choices.

So, some people have noted that I’ve been quite whiny as of late in this space. They noted that I seem to be quite unhappy and depressed with the world. And, I am apparently taking it out on others. So, I thought I would take a moment to recap why I use this space and what I hope to gain from it.

Vainly, I often hope someone else thinks my thoughts are intriguing and I’ll get a book offer. Realistically, I know that I don’t write enough on one subject like some bloggers I know to do. They are great and focused and have a strong following. I’m not there yet, in part because my career isn’t there yet. So, I write about what I know, now, and right now that’s frustration.

In the past I have either not written or kept those posts private. I am very uncomfortably publishing these posts this time around. Why am I publishing them publically, then? In part because I want the accountability of posting (nearly) every day. If I make the post private, it doesn’t show up. I don’t have time to write all day every day, so one frustrating post might be all that comes, if at all.

I’ve written before that I write for me. The year I did not blog was frustrating. I really do not know what I am thinking until I read what I write. I have an idea, a clue, but not until the words spill out of my head and transfer themselves through my flying fingers, typing furiously, at 90 words per minute, and then I read it as it appears on the screen — that’s when I know. That’s how I explore these ideas. I prefer to explore ideas on philosophy and sustainability, but lately, I’ve been about a 3 or 4 – a constant stressed out state that dips below the line. And, when you dip below the line it’s much harder to get above it.

If you have found that you might be the subject to a frustrating tirade, I am sorry if you did not hear my intent. The post, though your actions may have been written about, was not about you. It was about my reactions to your actions and how I am processing them. I am letting you into my head-space  a place I have, my entire life, kept quite private. This is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you – but it releases cathartic, needed understanding, which is why I’m keeping in this uncomfortable space.

I hope, as you read, that you note I take care to not name your name nor your specific relation. I hope you can see that you are likely the only one who knows I may be talking about you. And, I am sorry you find my sharing offensive. I know you think this is a crappy apology, but all I’m sorry for is that your feelings are hurt while I discuss my own feelings of hurt and misunderstanding.

So, that is why I haven’t been writing. I haven’t been writing because I know it’s painful to read frustrating thoughts instead of thoughts of joy around the delightful tirades of my 6-year-old. But life, now, is frustrating and offering stressors from many angles, and there is no clear way out except to plug along, try to make sense of it one day at a time. And, I continue to write, hoping that someone else might take solace and comfort in that I am not the only one going through a tough time. There are many who have it worse and others who have it better, and when those who have it better have it worse again, perhaps they will take comfort in my story.

 

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