I'm Confused, Amazed and Queasy

I just glanced at my stats. Really? Nearly 10,800 people have stumbled upon my ramblings and managed to read what I have written? Amazing. Yes, I do read the comments and I even occasionally comment in return.

What I can't quite comprehend is the following. It's not that I'm not that I'm not appreciative of everyone that takes a moment to read my rants and blatherings. You endure my late-night misspellings, heartbreaks, anger, mind-numbing pain, euphoria, depression, mania, disdain for humanity, religious intolerance... you name it. I even appreciate the negative comments and the self-help comments. Ahhhh.... the self-help comment, those are the best. The advice frome those who know not what the demons who haunt me lay before me minute by minute day by day.

Yet, the thought is sincere, so I let it slide and say a little "Yo' to the universe that hopefully that commenter never has to endure what I was enduring when I wrote that blog.

But really, 10,800? It's not a huge number but to me it's astounding because when I started Yelps From The Closet I started it solely for me. I started it as a place to express myself. Think of it as a therapist's office. I was the therapist and the patient. Yelps was my sanctuary. No, Yelps IS my sanctuary.

I've used this place to rail against religion. Heartily. I always will. Early on, this forum was my sanctuary for venting during my divorce. I used it for whole-heartily unloading my venom against my ex-wife and her seemingly vitriolic, uncaring, materialistic personality.

I've used Yelps to personally attack my own children, rightfully so, at times, for disowing not only me for divorcing their mother but for disowning their grandparents at the times that they were needed most.

In short, This is my personal place. This is a very personal place that I recognize as a publicly recognized forum. And that's ok. That's ok because Through my joys and pains, my laughter and tears I hope to bring hope and smiles to at least one person who reads through the misspellings.

This has been one of the hardest weeks that I can remember. Not including the week that my dad passed away. You may or may not understand. Unless you can understand the idea of having experienced everything and having nothing else left to experience, feeling trapped within a steel box with no way out, thinking that today brought as much excitement as yesterday, and the day before, etc, and tomorrow promises the same, and the worst, the very worst.... you don't laugh at a midget in a half-tank top....

I called in an emergency session with the Doc. Somethin' ain't right. I always laugh at midgets. And I don't like feeling trapped. I'm a free-spirit. Always have been. You should know this. You read my Yelps.

Why you read my Yelps, I don't know. I'm glad that you do. I hope that I do some good. I go through a lot of shit. My life is a bit of a cosmic maelstrom. It's a helluva ride but you puke when it's over. The difference with my Maelstrom is, I'll hold your hair.

Thanks for reading.