long story short.

i'm not sure how to explain this.

for starters, can i just say? therapy? is a good thing. do you have a therapist? well, go get one. because everyone - and i mean everyone, yes even you - could benefit from some quality time with an impartial observer. i've done therapy before, and right now i'm doing it again - this time i'm trying to get a handle on some aspects of my life that make me feel, at best, out of whack and at worst, out of control.

in the course of trying to get a handle on said w(h)ackiness, i've come to some interesting realizations about how i'm actually living life. i know, imagine that - how you live can affect how you feel! rocket science. and yet sometimes, the brain, it wants to avoid these these little life truths - probably because it thinks it's living just fine, thank you, as long as enabling your own neuroses, hang ups, and bad habits is the goal.

but you know, i've gone against a bit of my brain grain and said hey, that's not my goal! i don't want to feel like this anymore!

and my therapist kinda said, well, what're you going to do about it?

she said this in a nice way, of course.

so, long (and somewhat more private) story short, i've decided that one of the things that i really need to do is gain some perspective on what role writing plays in my life and why. i've always been pretty good at writing, and it seems like i've always been writing in some capacity - in school, at work, in my free time. in my life thus far, writing has served as that "thing that i do" -and more to the point, that thing that i'm good at. but underneath all the good grades and good jobs and validation and approval that writing has gotten me, i think i've lost track of the real question: do i really like to write? if this whole enterprise wasn't providing a sort of order and method of achievement for me, if it wasn't providing a space for me to prove that i can keep grabbing brass rings and "doing well," would i want to keep doing it?

in order to find out, i've got to quit. for a while. three months is the rough time frame i've decided on for now - a sabbatical from blogging, from pitching articles, from thinking about where my writing should be taking me or what it should be doing for me. of course, it's a somewhat imperfect plan, because i still spend eight hours a day writing at work, but it's something - and i think it will help.

so, my merry little band of loyal readers, i appreciate the fact that you've read what i've had to say here, whether it's been over the last two weeks or the last two years. if i were a betting woman, i'd say that i'll be back eventually - i have a sneaking suspicion that there is something more to all this, and that it's just buried under a pile of accumulated, um, issues. and i will definitely check back in three months time regardless and let you know how this little life experiment is going.

ok. that's it. thanks again, friends, and see you around blogland.

edited to add: wow. i hit publish thirty seconds ago and i already feel guilty. seems like i'm getting my money's worth from my weekly co-pay, that's for sure...