I have a confession to make.
My name is Joanne and I have CommentPhobia. It is too an actual thing, I looked it up!
Ok, I didn’t really look it up, I made it up but I think it’s a real thing, don’t you? Please?
See it’s like this: I went to Catholic School. Also, I’m a middle child. And a girl born under the overly sensitive sign of Cancer plus, I’m Irish.
Mathematics have never been my strong suit but I kinda think that all adds up to one guilty apologetic people-pleasing self-ignoring, well, hell of a woman now that I think about it!
Psst, I’m trying this thing where I make believe I’m confidant and stuff, did it work yet? Hmph. Things take time ok?
This is what happens, I zig-zag.
It isn’t intentional, in fact I wake up every morning ready to take on the world, also known as my To Do list but I have too many balls to juggle so I fumble. And something has to hit the floor when you’ve got too many balls in the air and what winds up suffering in my little world is replying to your comments in anything resembling a timely manner.
Truth: I have nightmares about it. For real.
Because it means so much to me, at a time I need it most, the fact that you take the time out of your own busy day to talk to me is such a gift I treasure, and I truly feel love and gratitude for each and every one of you. Honored is too small a word.
I keep telling myself “tomorrow I’m gonna wake up and reply as I wake up slow with my three cups of tea” but… all the buts show up at the same time, more balls flying my way, so many┬áI lost count.
Then I think “tonight, when I’m cozied under comforting fleece, I’ll do nothing other than reply” and emergencies bust through the walls crashing all over my intentions.
Betcha’d never guess I love talking to you as much as I love writing and reading by my recent behavior, rather, my lack thereof.
I hate excuses.
Especially when they’re coming out of my mouth.
That’s why I’m not gonna give you a list of reasons I haven’t been keeping up. As you may or may not know, I’m coming up on my one year mark writing here on Word Press, at the same time I’m coming up on the one year mark without my Mom.
That’s not an excuse, a reason, it’s just truth.
So why am I babbling about something I haven’t been able to do instead of, oh I don’t know, doing it?
Because my name is Joanne and I am a CommentPhobaholic.
Because I feel dumb replying to comments left previously when it takes me this extra-long amount of time to reply, and I will reply to each and every unanswered comment no matter how long it takes. Nor how dumb I feel.
You know, guilty middle-child Catholic School Irish Cancer. With a temper. Which I’m aiming at myself if I don’t keep my word.
If I say it I mean it.
Except when I don’t but I tag that ‘fiction’.
I guess I just want to say I’m sorry and I am very grateful to you, over there, with the eyes reading this right this very second. Yeah, I’m talking to you, every single one of you. If your eyes are seeing these words, know that I am blessed, because of you.
You have helped me through the most traumatic year of my life, I can’t imagine what the past year would have looked like without you.
I won’t allow myself to imagine that.
I will though, imagine getting up to date with my comments.
If you can imagine it, you can make it so.


{August 7, 2013}   I’m Sorry

I owe you an apology.
And yes, I mean you. If your eyes are reading these words then this apology belongs to you because I haven’t been living up to my end of the deal.
I know, there is no actual deal, but it goes without saying that when you take the time to leave a comment here then the least I can do is comment back, right?
Rude I tell ya, it can be downright rude, yet still there are comments I’ve yet to respond to and guilt-girl that I am, the fact that I haven’t responded to each and every comment yet (operative word being ‘yet’) weighs heavy on my mind and has now entered Things I Worry About In The Middle Of The Night territory.

I could give you a play by play, a list of the millions of reasons something so very important to me continues, for the most part, to get pushed aside, all rational reasons, legitimate Real Life Gets In The Way reasons, but they all add up to the same thing: comments you have so kindly and generously taken the time to leave me still remain unanswered. Not unseen, just unanswered.
I wasn’t raised to be rude, it’s more of a spiral I’ve been caught up in these last few years months, and again, there is no excuse good enough for my inaction, but there they are, excuses.

And I should not be excused, I should be punished {crosses fingers hoping to get a forgiving grin out of you} but I do sincerely beg your forgiveness and kind understanding. You see, when it comes down to it, I am already punishing myself with the mental beat-downs, my inner voice screeches like a harpy nearly 24 hours a day and the weight of this guilt hangs heavy on a daily basis.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that in the time it took me to write this I probably could have replied to a good handful of comments (or installed a cat door because I swear I’ve just opened and closed the door at least 77 times as four different cats can’t decide if they want to stay in or go out, they scratch at the door or keep tapping me with their paws, depending on which side of the door they are on), but I felt the need to apologize en masse, sort of like my cyber version of walking around with a scarlet letter on my chest.

So I shall wrap up my public apology with one last beg for your forgiveness, and try my best to manage my time in a more, umm, timely manner.
Oh and one more thing, I can not adequately describe how much I appreciate each and every one of your comments, they are like manna falling from the skies and they sustain me during this adjustment period of my New Normal without my Mom, as much as they say you aren’t prepared to ever lose a loved one, I am finding it’s a lot worse than I ever could have imagined.
Love whoever you love, and make sure you tell them you love them, always.

et cetera