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I promise it is not my goal to have this blog be a study in gloom and doom and negativity. So in keeping with that, I wanted to add a post script of sorts.

People can be amazing. It’s far too easy to focus on how messy people can be. We have the media to help push that agenda, and anytime I read all the way down my Facebook feed there’s always at least one story that has me scrolling by as fast as possible, trying to erase the images that so easily stick in my head. Still, this messiness is not all life has to offer. People can also be unusually kind, surprising you with their thoughtfulness and generosity. I have had many occasions during the course of our hard times to meet such people. I’m often blown away by the unexpected, so I wanted to take a moment and highlight that instead of my troubles, which I spend too much time dwelling on as it is.

In the past 24 hours, I have had two different people reach out and offer to help Chris in some way, unprompted. Both had read my blog and were moved to try and help. Neither was looking for anything in return. Incredible. Whether or not anything concrete comes from either one isn’t really the point. Both offered me moments of hope within the turmoil, and hope is an invaluable commodity. Trust me.

I forget that people read this. That sounds crazy, I realize. I never go a full day without checking on how many views the blog has had, so clearly I am technically aware that people are reading it. But there are “people,” in the anonymous sense, and then there are people, as in people I know. There is a difference. Every time someone I know mentions the blog, or doesn’t mention it but suddenly comes out of the woodwork and offers to help Chris, which makes it pretty obvious they are reading it, I experience a mix of emotions ranging from pleased to unnerved. Oh, and gratitude. There is always that. I feel oddly hidden here behind my screen, which is ridiculous, because I post these links on Facebook. It’s not like it’s an anonymous blog. Still, the reminders that people I know are reading freak me out a bit. I feel… I don’t know, not naked, precisely, but visible, which is odd because for the most part I feel invisible. It’s as if the act of writing makes me seen in a way that I am normally not, which is a bit esoteric, and maybe a bit weird, as well. That’s okay. Weird works.

Thank you to anyone who offers me hope, in any way. To those who actively seek to help, and who those who just continue to read, adding to my stats and reminding me that I might, in fact, finally have something to say. Hope is a very good thing, however it arrives. I’ll take it.

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