Taking stock

I confess, I feel a stab of guilt when I open the page to write something here, especially in the last month or so and increasingly in the last week or so. It seems like a frivolous, pointless self-indulgence. It's one of the reasons I sort of paused and stepped away, for several days.

The truth is, though, this helps. It's cheaper than therapy (which I consider to be pointless, anyway, so just for that alone, it's also more effective); it's less chemically impactful (and/or harmful) than legal or illegal drugs (although that leads to the question of whether it's also less fun, especially in comparison to the latter); it smells less offensive to the people I live with than cigarette smoke (even though I don't complain about the smell of their omlettes and scrambled eggs, now, do I?) ; it doesn't impact my ability to drive at moment's notice, and won't give me a headache on an empty stomach like drinking (on the rare occasion, though, the two have gone very well together); and it's the most private outlet I have available to me right now--that I feel comfortable having with, I should say--for me to display my grief and anger and bewilderment and fear publicly without continuously forcing it on everyone else who's around me (not to mention indulge my propensity for parenthetical and tangential thought to the fullest!)

It also looks far less crazy than talking and humming tunes to myself.