The last time I posted a blog was on February 7th — on that particular day, I was looking back on the accomplishments of my life fondly, smiling on the things I’d done. Today is a different day and February 7th feels like a lifetime ago. Certainly,
I’m not the same person that I was then. Truly, I envy that oblivious fool; he had no idea what was coming to him.
Where was I? I’d like to be able to blame the virus, or tell you that social distancing had created an insurmountable problem for me. If anything, the virus should have brought me closer to you. In terms of metaphor, I was mourning the loss of myself. The Mr. Miller that existed before my absence is gone, never to return. The man that types now and takes the mantle of A.P. Miller is one that is wiser, a little more leathery (emotionally) for the experience. Physically, I’m the same.
This great divide between who I was and who I am is a private matter. I’d like to invite you in, but that wouldn’t be fair to everyone involved. I will tell you this: I have been completely blindsided by how fast everything can change. What was to be forever, what would always be there in the little world you make for yourself, can all of a sudden become nothing more than a memory. A brain impulse. A morbid reminder of what will never be again. Some days you’ll think you’ll be okay — you distract yourself from what’s going on inside and you can be blissfully unaware. Then there are the times when the silence reminds you of what and who isn’t there. The familiar sounds that you could go to sleep to, or the walls that were home, are no longer available to you. The silence reminds you that you are a stranger again — to quote James Hetfield and Metallica’s song “I Disappear”: just as soon as I belong, then it’s time I disappear. Maybe I’m too deep in the silence at the moment and I’m oversharing, but that’s the ethereal beauty of writing: I use words when I am at a loss.
Over the last two months, I’ve been extremely fortunate to be reminded how my siblings are amazing people. Like my siblings, I share the family curse: even when it hurts, I don’t know when to quit. The rest of the world may be going to hell around me, but I will keep moving forward, because that’s what our father would want us to do: keep moving forward. The good news is that while everything kind of sucks at the minute, I’m going to be fine. I write for your entertainment, but I also write to process some of the hurt that I’m experiencing. My Mama always taught me to laugh at tough situations, so that’s what I’m trying to do.
What hasn’t changed is that I’ve still got my passions in writing — so, as long as you still like my work, I have a purpose. I’ll have a purpose anyways, but I still firmly believe that writing will take me to the life that I want to lead and not the other way around.
Please don’t worry, I’m fine. We’re all human. The wounds I’ve got will heal and then those issues will be stronger. As for me, I’m going to keep writing in search of myself.
Until your next trip across the Millerverse.