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[[ UPDATE: To those people reading this now and feeling concern + care, thank you! I am so blessed to be connected to so many good people. Even just posting this was healing – in some invisible way – and, in the hours and days since, I have availed myself of numerous coffees, walks and talks with friends near and far. I’m happy to say I’m feeling reconnected and inspired, although I came down with a cold almost instantly after clicking post on this!! 😆 Thank you all for reaching out. It is everything. 💖 ]]

I am on some wheel of depression.

The small flame of happiness I always trust to be there has gone out.

I share this so we can know we aren’t alone.

I barely have enough will to turn on the computer and type this in.

But I am typing, I am typing.

I am typing scared of what people will think.

I am typing worried that I am making a bad brand.

I am typing afraid of being irrelevant.

But I am not irrelevant. I am a human on planet earth, and I am hurting. Even with all my privilege, I am hurting. I am a human in North America, amidst a craziness that seems to have no end, and I am hurting. I have been impacted in ways close to home.

Since moving to this small town in rural Colorado, I have had a hard time making friends.

Some people have been friendly and welcoming.

Others have been steely or private.

It hurts.

We even have a whole chat room in this town where people attack each other politically – neighbors – and get into whole arguments, rather than try to meet each other and at least argue about useful things, like what tractor to buy or how to spend tax dollars. This is how it is in rural America, it’s scary.

It hurts that we all must do what we must do, guard our tribe, protect our business, shelter our children, bolster our investment. I feel myself inside this wheel of utter meaninglessness this night, and I wonder if I am alone there.

I can’t believe I’m actually going to press post, this breaks all my posting rules.

I know there will be good times, that’s not what I’m lamenting.

What I’m lamenting is the ways that we are forced inside our own silos of sadness, protection and privacy. I mean, I want my privacy. I choose my privacy. But tonight it stings. Tonight my privacy stings. I wish we could all find a way out together.

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