Listening to the Truvia gods.

I’m writing again today after a long break, inspired by a message printed on the Truvia packet I used to sweeten my morning coffee. The packet urged me in bold letters:

Share Your Voice.

So I’m following the advice of the Truvia gods and reaching out. But I must warn you my voice has been pretty grim this month.

Insomnia continues. I am struggling to accept that the joy of snuggling happily into sleep is gone forever. I have decided instead to celebrate the fact that I have almost reached level 2000 in my candy crush game during quiet late night hours.

I am also fighting, but sadly losing, a battle against my fear-of-flying phobia.  I keep reading statistics about how air travel is safer than driving in a car. But I find I just don’t care. This anxiety refuses to be tamed with data and facts.

Additionally, politics continues to get stranger and the ever-growing need to be caught up on the news is growing stronger.

What if something happens and I’m not informed?

It’s a tree falling in the forest kind of thing.

If news occurs and I am not listening does it really happen at all? With that reasoning perhaps we should all stop paying attention. Maybe if we all refuse to listen there will no longer be anything worth hearing.

My Truvia packet tells me to share my voice, but my quiet voice feels very drowned out.

And speaking of drowning, Ben LeCompte has stopped swimming.

No longer can I go through my days thinking about my now stymied favorite adventurer.

He trained for years to swim across the Pacific Ocean.

He raised money, assembled a crew and filled the good ship Seeker with everything he and his team needed to successfully accomplish his bold endeavor.  They had tracking apparatus, safety devices, weather scanners, spare parts, shark repellent, medicines, food and water.

They were at sea for over five months. Ben swam for the challenge, to expand the limits of human endurance, and to raise awareness of the increasing levels of pollution in our oceans.

He and his crew were ultimately stopped by storm damage to Seeker.

The boat was unfixable in the middle of the Pacific. The crew had lost heart.

I’ve kind of lost heart as well. GoDaddy broke my webpage, and while fixing this is nothing like repairing a broken boat in the middle of the stormy Pacific Ocean, I am currently having trouble addressing this setback.

I feel like leaving the internet waters due to rough weather and breakages.

Also, someone has hacked my Facebook account. This is only semi-alarming because several years ago the IRS informed me that my identity had been stolen as well.

I just don’t feel like myself anymore.

But here I am sharing my sad voice. After all, my Truvia packet told me I should.

I have no deep message today. I have no encouraging thoughts, but I am myself encouraged by the thought of putting my words out here again.

Things get better.

At least they always have before.

I guess I can always get back into the water after a small break.

Truvia said I could.