when i picked up our romantic, valentine’s day manufactured holiday dinner from a favorite local bistro last night, i struck up a conversation with a fellow pregnant woman. she was dining alone and a piece of me envied her quiet solitude. like me, she had roughly 9 weeks left in this pregnancy. also, like me, she has another child at home, and therefore had forgotten about the fact that the last 2 months of pregnancy suck your will to live. we chuckled together and then she was seated at her table.

we wished each other luck and went our separate ways.

a longtime friend and confidant texted me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that she is taking the time to read my blog in its entirety. she most recently finished reading through 2013, which only solidified the decision i made back then to not share the video footage we had taken of our then infant son’s wretched feedings on this blog.

Perhaps i’m hibernating. “nesting” in a way. quieting down. preparing myself for change. big change. taking inventory. reading. observing.

perhaps i’m wigging out. burying my crazy and stuffing it down deeper and deeper into the crevices from which it eventually seeps out of. people can suffer in silence. not that i’m suffering. i’m pregnant with a preschool age son and a husband shortly deploying. some people have it worse. others have it better.

perhaps i’m just listening… which is not something i am particularly strong suited to do, and certainly not something i practice often. (i think this makes people nervous. when i am quiet, others around me aren’t sure what to do with themselves. are you ok? are you upset? is something going on? is there anything you need to talk about?)

life is noisy. the abundance of sound, words, opinion, vitriol, speculation. it’s exhausting.

i am someone who loves words. LOVES. one of the things i truly enjoy the most about life is discussion. just simple discussion with people. agreeing. disagreeing. problem solving. expressing oneself with words. to me, it’s intoxicating. it’s powerful.

it’s meaningful. it CAN BE meaningful.

but it doesn’t feel that way to me right now. words aren’t feeling productive and insightful. drafts are being written without edits. submissions and speculations are being made without confirmation. words are being shared without a true sense of the message being put out in the universe. people are writing and speaking for the sake of writing and speaking. for a deadline. for cash. to be heard. to say SOMETHING. anything.

but what is truly being said?

when i find myself at a place where i am questioning words like this, i tend to quiet down.

someone needs to listen.

(this knowledge of her reading my archives also confirms my decision to not read through my own archives. ever.)

another trusted friend was emailing back and forth with me just yesterday and mentioned how quiet my blog has been lately. she’s correct (as she usually is). i have been quiet here… not for any particular reason. certainly not for lack of content. i shrugged when i read her astute observation. she was spot-on, and i had no insightful response to return. just a shrug. an acknowledgement.