It’s been a while since I wrote a post on here. In fact, I looked at the date of my last post this morning and realized — with much chagrin — that it was from October of last year. So, nearly three months ago if you round up a tad.
And that really frustrates me because one of my goals has been to get back to blogging more. But it’s a new year and this year I’m going to be much more active on here.
I think a big part of my problem last year was the nasty divisiveness we’ve all lived through politically speaking. It doesn’t matter which side you’re on, you’re probably madder and angrier than you’ve ever been at the other side. And we’ve all seen and experienced this ugliness.
Facebook was less fun in 2017 than it’s ever been, and we’ve probably all had some serious spats with friends or family members over all the news the past year. In fact, I’d almost argue the anger and division we’re going through in this country has nearly killed facebook.
So, probably like you, I spent much of last year trying to bite my tongue and avoid saying what I was really feeling.
Also last year, shortly after that last post I wrote (Don’t ever lose the magic), I found out some devastating news that kept me from posting on here. During a routine vet appointment, I learned my dog Maggie had lymphoma.
I went into that appointment telling myself that she was seven-ish years old (we didn’t know her age because she was a rescue), and I needed to start preparing myself mentally for the fact that she probably only had three to five years left. I left it knowing she only had mere months to live when they discovered the lump in her throat.
We fought the nasty prognosis as best we could, extending her life for as long as we could without being selfish or cruel to her (I hope), but in the end the vet’s predictions proved absurdly accurate: a perfectly “healthy” dog was attacked unseen from the inside and went downhill remarkably fast.
As most of you know, Danah and I don’t have any kids, so losing Maggie was extraordinarily painful. She was a member of our family and she was my rock and one of my best friends. She knew me about as well as anybody can know me.
She had watched me fight to keep a company alive, she had watched me write many a book, and she was always there to cheer me up or console me or beg me for one more treat or walk or game of ball.
When we received the diagnosis, and later when she passed, I didn’t tell hardly anyone. I didn’t want to post anything on facebook or tell many friends. It was just too painful, and I didn’t want to spread any more darkness in the world. 2017 was already dark enough.
Now, Danah and I are down to two kitties, Clay and Penny. (We lost our other love — a once-in-a-lifetime cat named Toby, who was more dog than cat — just about a year before Maggie.) Clay and Penny are both rescues, but they were feral before we rescued them, so they’re pretty skittish (even two years later).
They only want a little bit of love on most days, and they’re still trying to figure out why Maggie’s no longer around.
But it’s a new year and this year I’ll be posting a lot more. I’m not going to let my political exhaustion and isolation, which I think we’re all feeling, affect my blogging anymore.
I just finished a new book, I’m excited about a few other ones that I’m about halfway through with, and it’s time to get this train back on the track.
If you’re a long-time follower of the blog (and regular commenter), leave a few words below updating me on your life if you want. I’ve certainly missed the community we built on here and I’m hoping you have, too.
And if you’re new, feel free to introduce yourself below. Maybe just share a bit about yourself, how you came across this blog or my books, and anything else you want to add, such as interests, favorite authors or books, etc. I really enjoy getting to know new people who presumably share some of the same interests as me.
I’ll be posting about once a week from here on out, so hopefully, we can get back to having some great discussions (and sense of community) in the comments below again.
Stan R. Mitchell