The other day I was driving home from work, reminiscing through some old CD’s to avoid from using up my phone data via Pandora, and I came across Dido—an artist that I listened to throughout the majority of my young adulthood. While I was listening to her tracks, at the same time I was also thinking about how I have had a difficult time writing lately. Not because the thoughts aren’t there—believe me, I am always reading into something—but because I am afraid to put how I really feel out there for everyone else to know.

You see, I’ve always been a pretty happy-go-lucky girl with a (semi-)positive outlook on life. My Mom always called me her bubble, I think because she thought I always seemed so outgoing and could often light up a dim room with my overflowing excitement. I’ve known when to see the glass half-full versus half-empty, and find the silver lining when it comes to almost anything. Sprinkled with a little snarck-asm here and there, and that about sums up Kelly. A little sweet, a little salty, but always up for a laugh and good time. Generally happy-ish, with all things considered.

But, these days I feel so unlike and opposite of the girl that I described above. And the posts I write are more like pissy rants, and so I delete every one I start. When my thoughts are just in my head, they are abstract and seem to pass quicker without anyone having to know that I had them in the first place. And when I put them on paper, they seem more permanent and not as easy to change. They are real, and I have to face them.

Once it is all typed out and ready to publish, I become ashamed of the way I feel and what I’ve written, and am embarrassed that others may read what I have to say and think I am just a cold, angry, bitter, mean, lost bitch. Which, most days recently, is how I honestly feel inside my heart. I’m not very happy or fulfilled. I am not loved the way that I need to be—the way I used to be when my Mom was alive—and I feel hurt. I find great difficulty living in a world that She no longer exists and am truly sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. And I find myself being angry and resentful towards others that already have what I lack and truly wish for in my own life. Why do things come so easy for some people, and so damn difficult for others? Where do you go from here when feeling this way—other than straight to my fucking counselor’s office? That’s a no-brainer. Calling first thing tomorrow morning.

It would be so much easier if I wrote posts about healthy recipes, or the top 10 ways to organize your closet. But, unlike a blog about lifestyle tips, this blog is a about my life and my journey throughout it, and right now it just is what it is. And during a time while I have gone back and forth, debating with myself on whether or not to continue to write or just let things remain in my mind only, songs like the one that came on while I was listening to Dido remind me that I am not alone in the internal struggles I face.

All of the songs we hear are written by regular people that have chosen to translate their experiences of love and loss into lyrics and beautiful melodies. Without any deep or dark feelings like this behind their music, there wouldn’t be any to sing along and cry to. Now that would be a damn shame, wouldn’t it?

I guess the lesson learned for today, is that I may just go with it and see what happens. So, there may be future posts that are more snarky, pissed, angry, lonely or bitter—but those will hopefully and eventually shift into ones that are optimistic and lighter again—as the world around me changes, so will my perspective. Change is good. Transition is hard. And I am still quite fresh in the middle of a big shift.

If nobody else out there gets me at all right now—at least I know that Dido’s got my back, who obviously felt like total shit (and similar to how I feel now) while writing this. See, I’m not alone. Have a listen…

Song of the Blog
Honestly OK  |  Dido  |  Circa 1999