Dear Blog Land

I must apologise to not writing to you more often.

I have missed you – desperately.  It’s not you, it’s me.

I know the excuse of the “busy season” is a good one, but I am not really that bus.  I would be less than truthful if I used that as a “get out of jail free” card.

I have dozens of  “draft” posts I just can’t publish, and there they sit in limbo, a bit like me.

I have a few things going on that have well and truly been a case of someone walking over and driving a construction nail through my ear, and then asking if we could chat about the fit, and whether it can be hammered in a bit more every other day.

I am strangely not depressed.  I know the denial is a sign of depression.  I am fine in that arena.  I think.

I am even more strangely not in a case of high anxiety or stress.

I just have some things going on in my personal life that give the phrase “total and absolute mind fuck” a really bad name.

I am not at liberty at this stage to blog about it, but it is an issue that has well and truly taken over every thought and every breathe, and I feel blogging without being able to share what is really going on makes me feel like I am being “less than” and I am not a fan of being “less than.”

I beg your indulgence for a little while.  I can’t blog about the stuff that is actually going on, and the result is that I feel unable to blog about anything else.

I will really appreciate you not, at any stage, telling me “things happen for a reason” and more importantly to “everything will be okay in the end ….” promise me, we will never say those things to each other!

Okay, so this note is to tell you that I am still alive. I have not quite run off to Mexico with my takealot R600.00 voucher …. I tried, but it seems that shall not be.

I am still very much here – but not actually “here” if you take my meaning.

Okay peeps, unicorns, rainbows and happiness to you for 2014 – alternatively a good after school care system, and daily wine deliveries.

Who else in the world is counting the days until they can drop their children off with alternate child care workers and scream “hiddy ho mother f#ckers” as they burn rubber exiting the parking area?

Or is it just me?