Until Next Time…

I’m boring. It’s who I am. And, it’s time to wrap this up.

This is my last post for a while. I highly doubt it will be my last one ever because I have this odd and incisive need to share a story or two.

I began writing this post at 3:45 am on Thursday, March 28th, as a journal entry and somehow it’s made its way here to this space.

I woke up to the conclusion that writing and publishing a blog post each week forced me to focus on what witty article content will I write for the next installment? Better yet, what wondrous, word fiesta of AHA’s and demented humor would I pour out onto the blank screen? I was so focused on sharing the grandiose story that I found myself becoming the weathered news reporter searching for the next attention grabbing headline story that’s sure to move the newspaper off the stand!

As anyone who blogs from the point of revealing the story as it happens (versus those who are writing business oriented content that can be batched and scheduled) there’s a fear of having nothing to write about. I’m sure you’ve noticed a few lame posts that once you’re done reading, you said, “Um, what was the point of sharing that?”

Currently I am parked at a campground without any hiking trails, nothing spectacular except the sunsets. Truly, the sunsets over the lake have been standing ovation worthy. Otherwise, I’m spending these next couple of days hunkered in my home, sitting at my desk working on client’s websites and ebooks, my two websites, participating in Marie Forleo’s B-School (which I highly recommend) and creating coaching programs. Oh, geez, I almost forgot to mention writing the books. I woke up this morning, the day after posting a blog post, full of anxiety of what will I share next week? That I worked. Oh that’s exciting, eh? I’ve driven over nine thousand miles, slept in countless campgrounds and all I have to report is that I’m sitting at my makeshift desk earning a living. Boring.

To take the content-producing pressure off, I’m going to take break from blogging for a bit. I have no idea how long. Maybe this is coming from a point of view of realizing this great adventure I set out on was nothing more than six months of alone time in a part of the country I’ve never been, surrounded by strangers that’d rather keep to themselves as much as I desire to be left alone.

Like I’ve written many times, I’m not having fun. I’m still me; still grieving. And, I really, really miss hanging out with my son, Mason, his wife and my three grandsons. I’ve cried more than laughed. I’ve hid out of fear (stranger danger is very real in some areas!) more than explored.

This past Monday, while attempting to figure out where I could camp, it hit me like a ton of bricks – it’s over. It’s time to head east and call this adventure done. Whatever great adventure, life altering AHA’s, and hoards of new friends that beckoned me to hangout with them out west that I’d hoped for (even anticipated) didn’t manifest. Just boring ol’ me doing boring ol’ stuff.

Another big fear looming in my screwed up mind is that I’m not missed back home. Wait. The only home I have is the one currently parked in a field with a carefully plotted grid of pull-through campsites in New Mexico near the Texan boarder. And, now you have insight on the biggest issue I’m facing – where do I live in Michigan? I no longer have my twenty acres. I admit, I’m getting tired of having to move every two weeks (state and national park policies). At first it was fun and I looked forward to “where to next?” Nowadays it more like, “Shit. Where to next?”

I had this expectation that, like Cheryl Strayed (author of Wild) that I’d find balance and come to terms with my past on a mountainous trail. And, that’s not to mention Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love journey. Who wouldn’t love to experience that storyline? Oh, to listen to a Brazilian talk to me…and to actually have a man fall in love with the me that makes me ME. Well, cut my biscuits and slather ’em with honey, maybe I should have gone to Italy, India and Bali instead of Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico. What was I thinking? 

It’s apparent, six months later, I’m not to experience some grandiose storyline nor life altering revelations. Just a grieving momma cryin’ and whinin’ to the southwest corner of New Mexico and back. Now there’s a great book to read, eh? I can see myself writing the marketing material now: “Follow the trail of tears and lonely hopelessness.” It’s sure to be a best seller! Not.

The next couple of weeks are going to be challenging and I really have no desire to make you witness more of my sobbing. In a few days I will be honoring my father who passed away five years ago. A week later I will be honoring my son’s life as we make our second rotation around the sun without my baby here to give me shit ’n sass. Damn the boys.

So… I suppose I should end this post before I run out of tissues. Thanks for hangin’ out with me and, in an odd ‘n twisted way, keeping me company. Until next time…

“Forgiveness doesn’t sit there like a pretty boy in a bar. Forgiveness is the old fat guy you have to haul up a hill.”
― Cheryl Strayed