I feel a little lame writing to you again because it seems as though I have only written to you when I get myself all fired up. And I really want to write to you all the time but sometimes, most times, I just don’t make the time. And I guess it goes back to when I used to talk to you about things that I really wouldn’t talk with to anyone else. When you were (and I guess you still are) my best secret keeper.
It is funny how time evolves and how quickly things change. And I guess that is why I am feeling so unsettled. I screwed up my glute and it is messing up my routine. Maybe some of my energy is pent up because I really haven’t been able to run or have much of an exercise routine. Or maybe its just another one of these ebbs and flows. I end up feeling so frustrated that I want to scream or cry (or both) and I need to figure out how to gain perspective. I am so grateful for our JHFH families that we can support and who in turn, help me more than they would ever know. But then we can’t help everyone and not everyone is happy about that and that’s hard too. It’s hard to turn it off and not take everything personally.
And I am like a yo-yo between utters sadness and anger. And I hate that celebrity death makes people so aware of real problems, yet the fact is that nothing changes. Nothing ever changes. And that sucks. By next week we will all have moved on to another tragedy and nothing will be different. And I wish that we could all get so worked up about everyday tragedies. About the no-name addicts struggling with the same afflictions, those that will never impact our lives in any way but whose lives still matter. And I don’t have the energy to fight that fight. I just don’t have the energy to make a difference. Life and death is just completely overwhelming.
But then I hate when I sound like that. And writing to you helps me get out of my own way. And I love you more than ever. And the next letter will be a happy one. I promise.