We Interrupt This Program for a Sappy Confessional Post

 The forest for the trees.

I tweeted this today:

Shout out to having rug ripped out from under you, 
only to find your foundation is so strong you never needed a rug.

A few months ago, without warning or much ado, I lost a key social media account I also happened to love. The expected reactions ensued, in no particular order and with random repetition just when I'd think I’d moved on: shock, sadness, anger and surprise. Surprise turns out not to the same as shock, by the way.

For a while, I let this event mess with my confidence. It seemed impossible not to. I kept hearing, “It’s not about you,” from all sides. Well, that’s bullshit and everyone knows it. So, forget that.

It is about you. More specifically, it’s about you knowing how to collect yourself and move on. It took me until today to realize I did know how to do that.

Which by the way: duh. I’m something of a champ in that area.

I won’t bore you with details. But I’ve taken some very hard looks at where my heart and passions lie – and wowza, have there been some revelations. Just in time.

Despite the fact that I really haven’t spoken much about this to anyone other than my beloved Cuddy, who I thank – I need to also thank my friends who helped me to not lose my groove, and held firm to their beliefs in my abilities: especially Mindy, Tim and Luc – all of whom didn’t blink an eye and just kept sending work my way. And to my compadre, Judith, thanks and love.

And really, to my other friends who didn’t spend time discussing this with me either - I now know it’s because it wasn’t worth the time we never spent.

I love you all and I’m so grateful every one of you are in my life.  

And a huge thank you and much love to my dear teacher Abigail Thomas, who via whipped cream and shortcake and a breezy attitude, showed me that it’s best to just keep writing.

We might actually be getting somewhere, folks.