Concealing.

There are many different types of bloggers. Some blog about their lives. Some do not. Some seem to stick to one theme like scrapbooking or doing handstands in cool or mundane places. Some blog about every good and bad thing that happens. Some blog only their struggles. Some blog only the happy times.

I generally fall into the latter category... with a mention here and there about a hard time. But I like to graze over it like a small thorn in a garden of roses. 

I suppose I don't do it intentionally. I like to focus on the good things... positive, optimistic, happy, lively things. I like to focus on good people and good times. And on occasion, I'll mention that I don't like cheesecake or (despite the fact that pregnant women are lovely) the thought of touching a pregnant woman's belly freaks me out more than anything I can think of off the top of my head. But you know... generally happy thoughts.

And then last night, though I was trying to avoid the topic of a certain recent event, someone mentioned it. I casually grazed over it and changed the subject. But then I received an email... an apology from an internet friend. She felt like she had hurt my feelings by unintentionally touching on the topic. Then she shared, "I didn't see an update on your blog recently... so I guess I am just blind or haven't been reading long enough." 

No, Lovely. You are correct. There is nothing on my blog of the sort. 

And that got me thinking. What is this blog I keep? A journal? A diary? Random thoughts? Journaling that will end up on a scrapbook layout one day? I suppose it's all of those things. But most importantly... to me... it's an escape. It's an escape of the life I really do lead. One where I cry every day, but then realize I've cried too much, so I should do my best to make it through a day without crying. A life where I watch an unending line of Friends episodes and eat fresh fruit, cheese and certain meats for the sole reason that it reminds me of my favorite grandfather.

I bake because it reminds me of my mom. I watch movies I've never seen. I color in my coloring book that has been up on a high shelf collecting dust. I chat on the phone with friends for hours and hours. I try my very best to keep my chin up and to focus on the things that really are wonderful in my life.

I have the best friends and family I could ever, EVER ask for. I am truly blessed with those God has placed in my life. And though I sit alone in my house day after day, I still want a life I love. I still want a life I enjoy... things I enjoy, people I enjoy. I always try to stay so strong. Put on a different face. It's so much better to make the best of things. 

But now I feel like I've come to a point where it's too late. It's too late to share what I'm going through. I'm that person who loves to smile. I'm that person who loves to make the best of things. I'm that person who wants to stay strong no matter what. I can't share... on my blog... that I'm *gasp* ... human!

I know, I know, thousands of people go through this every year. And I hate that it's become that. It's become a "yeah, that happens to lots of people. You'll get through it. You'll be fine." And I'm not fine. I feel like someone has died. I feel like a part of me has died. I've never felt so much pain, sadness, and loneliness ever in all my life. I feel like my whole world... everything I know and love is crashing and falling from underneath me. And I really do try to be strong.

But right now... I feel anything but strong. I am so... not myself. And more than anything, I just want to jump through cyberspace, wrap all my friends in my arms and say, "I love you, Ladies! You mean more to me than you could ever know. And right now, you are getting me through the hardest time I've ever, ever been through." And though I'm alone at home, I know in cyberspace, I'm not alone. So... thank you. :)

And thank you for letting be human today.