Is This the End, My Beautiful Friend?

I once got involved in an abusive relationship.  At first mentally, and eventually it turned physical.  I was able to escape it.  Learn from it and move on.

One thing that was said to me while in that particular relationship was;  I keep writing the same thing over and over and I should just stop.

I have never been able to let go of this sentence.

I spent some time looking over this accusation, to the degree that I could, as part of the abuse she was able to get rid of my previous blog.  Poof.  Gone into the cyber abyss.

From what I have been able to look over, I have to say, she may have been batshit crazy, but she was right.

I do write about the same things.

Am I just running on a treadmill?  Always going forward never reaching any real destination?

I like to think I have gained some insight in me and my place in the world over the years.  Everyday I do manage to learn something new.

Last night I learned I could play cats cradle with my Mala beads.  Not sure that is what Buddha intended but it made me laugh.  "Hey Buddha check this out, I can still do Jacob's ladder!"

That lead me to think who was Jacob and why is it his ladder?

I am also able to see how many people have read my blog.  Not who, just how many.  The highest number to date is 259.  That was my Mom's Eulogy.

259 people curious to see what I had to say about my mother.  259 people that have not returned to see anything else.

Through my writing I live a very transparent life.  I let whoever reads this see my joys and pains, failures, successes.

On average it is about 35 people.

Is that enough to even call myself a writer?  Why am I even continuing to do this if, in fact, I do repeat themes?

The other common thread in how many readers I have is when I post about God, or religion in general.

Are more people as confused and searching as I am and are drawn to my ongoing investigations?

I have written about God, death, life, children, cellulite, family, and the occasional kitchen appliance.

To what end?

I think people today want to read about quick fixes and short answers.  We want a direct connection without pushing buttons or talking to machines.

I can not give you that.  I can give you my insight to my life, which is lived in literally small spaces, and endlessly in my head.

I can give you a few definite things that I have learned:

If you want to lose weight, eat less and move more.  I  have no idea how to tell you to get up and actually do it.

If you are in a bad relationship, leave it.  No matter how hard it may be.

If you want your vegetables chopped, use a knife, or buy some new fangled thingamajig you saw on TV at 3am.

I can not tell you how to fix your relationship with your child, friend, lover, or spouse.

I can't even get my own dogs to poop outside.

Maybe I am not a writer.  Maybe I am simply an observer.

Maybe I am just the updated female version of Hawkeye writing to his father. (I am going to assume my faithful 35 get that reference).

Maybe it is time to stop writing.

Maybe it is time to write more.

Maybe it is time to see what else I can create with my Mala beads.