At a loss for words

I've been blogging every day for nearly three years now. Occasionally I've taken breaks for a few days, usually no more than two or three. Sometimes I've talked about doing so prior to the breaks, sometimes I've said nothing. 

I'm talking about this because, quite frankly, it's all I have to say right now. I've tried to talk about the things going on inside me with various friends and loved ones. Each time I try, I know I just can't. The words aren't right, somehow.

There are things in life that can seem beyond words or sharing. I'm fairly eloquent--I didn't think this could happen to me. But it's happening. Imagine that. I've been trying to talk to Darrin about it. He keeps reducing what I'm saying to, "Well, I don't think this is all that unusual. I think lots of people feel the same way sometimes. I don't think it's anything to worry about." 

No. Nothing to worry about. Life continues at its own pace and I retreat into silence because, after all, it's not unusual, everyone feels the same way. 

Except, three years ago I found the courage to talk. I still listen--I still would rather hear about you than talk about me. But no matter how scary it was, I began telling people who I really am. And I'm not sure I'm ready to stop talking for the rest of my life.

So last night I said this to my husband:

"I've been trying to tell you about the things that are happening inside me. I'm going to try again. I don't want you to compare me to other people. I don't want you to tell me how normal I am. I'm not looking for solace and I don't need you to propose a thousand different solutions. I need you to hear what I'm saying because it's important and it will effect you."

And then I told him once again. And he listened. And he finally heard. And now, he's trying to hide it, but I think he's more concerned that I want him to be--which was not what I was going for when I asked him to listen. He worries too much. 

So--I'm not going to talk about it right now. I'm not going to talk about anything for a little while. I need to figure out what I'm going to do, if indeed, there is anything to do. In the past couple of days I've tried to chat with or call some of my close friends about this. If that was weird, I'm sorry. I guess I was doing all I could think of to keep communicating even though I have no way to talk about this. Sort of stupid--but we do what we can.

Truly, I've come a long way in three years. I've done some really amazing, scary things. I've learned more, grieved more, and accepted more than I wanted to, and in the process I've discovered things about myself that I didn't know. Who can regret that?

No doubt, I'll be back. I'm just taking some time to figure everything out, and in the process, I think I'll find the words I need to start talking again.