I've been hibernating

A sister who supposedly doesn't read this recently gently reminded me that I could possibly write again.  Because, you know, that's what you're supposed to do when you've committed to a blog.  (Though I recently read my first-ever blog post and saw that I had wisely and honestly been pretty pessimistic about my ability to keep on blogging regularly.  So, if anyone read my blog in 2009, you'd know not to expect too much.)

I could.  And I am.  Right now, in fact.  But I don't want to.

Guys, in the spirit of full disclosure, 2014 has been an awful year.  A friend lost twins.  My sister lost her young son.  I lost a friend my age.  Another friend just lost her son.

There have been good things.  Bright things.  But every time I've even thought about writing here in my blog, I keep logging in and looking at that last post I wrote and thinking, "Ugh, I'm not ready to move beyond that."  I didn't know, obviously, when I wrote that, how much I'd come to appreciate the story of that woman who lost her son, how much I'd come to rely on those around me when all I did was cry for a month when my nephew died.  How exhausted and upset and mad I felt when yet another friend lost her child.  So every time I looked at the post, it bespoke even more grief.

Because it's all good and well, to grieve in unity.  But I HATE that we have to grieve in unity.  Or at all.  I hate that by loving so many people, ones heart gets broken afresh with every good-bye.  I think I've cried more this year than I ever have before--even counting when my own brother died.  I even almost cried at a wedding this year, and I have never cried at a wedding in my life before, so that is saying something.

And this is why I haven't written.  Because I can't think of light and fluffy things to say.  Because even though I still have random interactions with people around me, and I meet strangers who become friends, and I think vaguely interesting thoughts, they get pushed around and reorganized in my brain and at the top, always, remains the dull "ugh I can't even" and then, you know, I just don't write for ages and ages.

I'm not trying to make it sound like I live a wholly depressed life.  I have a new sister-in-law, a new nephew, and another new niecew on the way.  There have been weddings, and engagements, and babies, and changes, and happy things, and all the rest other wonderful things there are supposed to be in life.  But someone (a weird dude.  The strangest people talk to me sometimes) recently was like, "So awesome that you're so young and full of optimism!" and I straight-up told him that I thought it was rude that he assumed young people had to be full of optimism.  I look forward to the future.  I expect wonderful things in the future.  But I think it's stupid that older people think it's okay for themselves to not have optimism, because us younger generation has got it covered.

Maybe I was PMSing that day.  I just looked up the official definition of optimism, and it is in fact what I have, in spite of everything.

op·ti·mism

ˈäptəˌmizəm/

noun

1. 1.

   hopefulness and confidence about the future or the successful outcome of something.

   "the talks had been amicable, and there were grounds for optimism"

   synonyms:

   hopefulness, hope, confidence, buoyancy, cheer, cheerfulness, good cheer, sanguineness, positiveness, positive attitude "I wish I had your optimism"

Whatever.  We're going with optimistic though without a spirit of optimism.

So.  Here I am, for whatever it's worth.  Thankful for all that is past, and trusting the Lord for all that's to come.