Thomas woz there

Perhaps I need someone to lead the way out. My very good friend Jill found the door and backed out quietly. She left the lights on, and couple of house plants over here that need watering, but took all the damn furniture. So now what?
I've been thinking for a while that there's really no use for my own blog anymore. My work life has taken over any semblance of a personal life, in actuality. What I have to offer here is basic pissing and moaning that in no way reflects the dear god please help save me from myself urgency that initiated my tome.
Am I cured? Fixed? Healed? All better now?
Fuck. NO.
I'm every bit as crazy and then some. I still cry, almost daily.
I'm not "cycling"; I can't call this an infertility blog.
A "loss" blog, yes, but people tire of hearing sad stories and I sure as hell can't make it any more entertaining.
A "life" blog? Well, maybe. But I'd have to change a few things here and there, I suppose. I feel very compartmentalized. While the whole of me encompasses all the varieties of experiences in my life, I still feel some sick need to keep things separate. This is the everyday me. This is the work me. This is the crushed by life's unfair treatment and why the fuck can't I cry if I want to me.
To be honest with myself, I haven't moved on. I added more baggage to the closet upstairs, and am shopping for some storage organizers. I'm not quite ready for the garage sale.
My name is Julie, and I'm a professional hoarder.
Soon, perhaps, I'll be ready to turn a corner, flip the page, write the conclusion. Maybe. But not yet. If I allow myself the time and the heartache, there is so much I have left to say. About everything, nothing, and all things in between. For now, denial and silence seem to be working in my favor. Go me!
Jill, my love, my pal down-under... I am so pleased that you are in the place where you need to be now. You go, girl. Rock on.