Writing used to be cathartic, therapeutic.
If necessary, I’d write in the middle of the night.
For the last few months, I’ve struggled to force it. Until this week, the reluctance to record has baffled me.
I don’t easily admit, even to myself, “I have a problem.”
As you may know, the last 6.5 years have been a true roller coaster. When I scrolled through a few posts from a couple years ago, I read HOPE. I read PROGRESS. And I realized
I’ve been living the last few months in 3D.
But not the thrilling “let’s see a movie with those fun glasses” 3D.
Discouraged. Depressed. Distracted.
These three D words have ruled my life of late—and I didn’t even realize until now.
I drive Hubby a little nuts sometimes. I am the Optimist who makes everyone roll eyes at least once in our friendship.
Hitting every red light?…
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