Dear Ms. Moon,

Because I could not monopolize your poignant, perfect post why insanity is insane with this comment:

Ms. Moon, your post made me feel a sunset's colors worth of emotions. I am so happy for you to have had Dog Island, it is such treasure and I hope you can find your way back to it. I am so sad for you to have the fear and panic take over and ruin all that once felt safe, all that should be perfect. It is cruel. I have it all the time too, it's an odd agoraphobic fear of leaving the cave, and you described it achingly, frustratingly well. Tears came.

It is cruel for our minds to ruin what we love, and take away the ability to relax, as I'm always tight as a spring, inside and out. Sometimes I get scared just because of all I have to lose, the certainty that it will all be lost to me sooner than I want, despite my happy future tomorrows with my kids obsession, I know there are no guarantees. And far away from phone, internet, trauma centers, EMT's, medicine, news, all the things that give a speck of comfort or safety. Feeling vulnerable scares me, and I fear the trips, as every trip is fraught with danger. I read safety statistics for every mode of travel and buy big ass cars with airbags and I still wait for a truck part or falling rock to fall on me, just to insure I have plenty to worry about. I can't camp, ski, hike, sail or fly without panic, and can barely sit in a public place without worrying about crazy random acts of violence. I couldn't watch my husband and son body surf waves at the beach without hyperventilating - sharks, undertow, neck injury, my brain just tormented me. I'm petrified something terrible will happen to people I love, because it happens all the time and I can't accept it. Don't. Won't.

Just some of the things that scare me, maybe mostly that we're all so alone at the core in life, no matter how much or how many we love. Or maybe no matter where I go, there I am, and I don't know where there is anymore.

I wonder, Ms. Moon, what is the root of your fear, is it jumbled, like mine? I wonder why we can't make the panic go away. I feel that much of it is chemical, like drugs in my veins, changing my body and my mind too often for me to keep up. And I want a pill to fix that, because it should not happen. We have Catch 22 in the church of batshit crazy, we people who are so aware and so smart or discerning or burdened with hope that we should be crazy. But we are still sane enough to recognize the insanity and are doubly burdened.

Sorry to ramble, but I'm going to think of your sunsets and you unable to have them besides in your past, while I photograph my sunsets, fretting their passing and not their being and trying not to freak out, and remembering to breathe. I wish we could figure it out. I'd start with hugs.

And ghosts. My, my. I bet your family has some stories, as mine does. One of the perks of hyperawareness or whatever it is we have, or living in places or homes that hold energy, that helps makes us crazy, and thank goodness funny. I'm missing funny and safe, and sorry you are too.

Keep telling us about it, though, It is soothing in its sharing. Thanks.

See how this would just be the most narcissistic comment ever? I'm going back to read your post again and look at the pictures and try to be happy and not sad. And hopeful for you and me and the rest of the congregation.

I'm not going to lie....

I read a lot of blogs, way too many, because there a lot of good ones, and I have the time. I imagine responses to them as if we're actually having a conversation. I actually comment more than I would have thought, since I'm more comfy lurking than interacting - too exposed jumping into the fray, being borderline agorophobic in my menopausal haze. Member the Chris Farley SNL character who always blurted out stuff, then cringed because everything he said was stupid? But he can't stop himself? That's me lately. The words clunk out or fail sometimes. But.

When I bridge the gap, speak up, mangle a response, try to say something nice, connect, compliment or just me too, well, maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I can't remember. Some sites have delayed comment approval, some take a while to show up, some disappear into the ether, some I can't remember if I wrote it in my imagination and just thought I sent it. I can get pretty tangled backtracking my comments, and webhopping, and if I ever look like I'm stalking your page, honestly, I'm not. I'm just wondering did I babble something out there? Did anyone babble back? Are there more nifty comments? More cool people to read? I get lost a lot. My daily internet history is ridiculous. Can I really be this disorganized, even in my most rudimentary of social interactions? Perhaps. Maybe. And so it goes.

If I commented and it was a lame babble, sorry. If I said nothing and meant everything, sorrier still. I'm reading you, whenever I can, you're all mostly fascinating, and I find new, interesting tangents and get more tangled everyday.

So I'm just saying, it was nice sortof maybe almost or actually chatting with you! So glad you're out there.

Kindred Spirits

I can't stay away from the blogs of late, they call to me. I tumble from one to another, savoring the shared sentiments, the crafty turning of phrases, the synergy of minds trying desperately to stay sane in a mad world. I want to have a glass - ok, a bottle of wine with these women and men, one at a time and all at once and tell the truth, share what wisdom or comfort there is to be had, laugh at what we can and cry at what we must. I need my tribe, I have wandered a very long time alone on this earth, left to my thoughts and my worries and my rants. I need to hear the voices sing in chorus, in harmony, to find my way through the darkness in my day.

Thank you to the voices, to the writers who speak to me, and forgive me my reticence. It has taken a while to find my voice, and to believe it might matter what I say. I have forgotten my manners, and must introduce myself, to echo back to you through the interwilderness. Hello, I read what you write, I feel it too. We Are NOT Alone. We ARE NOT Crazy. WE ARE HERE.

:)