Looking for my wit's end... There it is! I'm at it.

I am so egocentric that I cannot write anything worth reading without getting too much personal info into that text. And I have reached the point where being the centre is no longer fun. I would like to 'right sumtin deep' having as subject a wonderful topic that is totally unrelated to me.

So, unable to do the 'rightin' thang', I will again deal with something personal.

I was absent for some time from this blog, due to events which were out of my control and which made me go through a quite vast array of emotions. Yes, I kept posting now and then, but my heart was really not into it. For example, I could have easily told you so much more and wittier about U2, but plainly it was not the right time.

First I was elated to get pregnant. Hopeful, day-dreaming, planning nursery and thinking about which school to choose, confident that 'this is it, my life is going to change forever'. I was right about the 'forever changed life', but not in the way I expected.

Then I was worried (and this feeling, I am afraid to say, has not left me yet, nor does it seem to. Soon. Or ever.). Things were not evolving as they should, yet I remained hopeful.

Afterwards, the world as I knew it came crashing down. I had a missed abortion at approximately 10 weeks. And yes, it is true, life would never be as I knew it before.

Cue enter 'dead inside' feeling. Which had two meanings, for a while there was something dead in me, and then there was the 'absent limb pain' that took over.

Despair, hopelessness, pointlessness, disappointment, failure, and an entire cohort of other such feelings that I am tired of remembering floored me.

Then I started to resurface from the cesspool of negative thinking. It is tiring to put up a happy face, but it pays off in the end, because it comes a time when it is no longer so difficult and you realise that it is getting better.

I am getting better. I will never be the same, I know, and where once I was fearless, now I am a very changed person, marred by crushed hope and worry. And I tend to rename 'pessimism' with 'realism', which is childish, I am not fooling anyone, not even myself, but I am trying to change that.

Now I feel best I have been in months. I can talk about our loss without crying, or getting teary-eyed, or chocking with sudden pain in my throat. It is not easy, but it is no longer that difficult.

Getting back to the land of hoping is another thing, though. I do not think I will ever be that bright-eyed as I was last April. I never realised how fragile life is. I knew it theoretically, but not emotionally, which is a whole different thing altogether. It is like knowing about 'love' as something fools rush into, and actually losing your head for a person who, although you know perfectly well is not perfect, is nonetheless perfect for you, and you find yourself able to do things you have never thought about before and notions such as self-humiliation or limits you impose yourself change every single day. Only that what I felt was the opposite of love. Or, to be more precise, it was not a fulfilled love, but an unrequited, forlorn and lost love.

Anyway. Time heals all wounds.

Wait, this is something I deeply do not agree with. Time wounds all heals, yes.

No, I think that time puts a crust on wounds that helps contain them, yes, but it does not heal. A scar does not mean a healed wound, it is a reminder of a wound.

But, since all things in life come with a counterpart, hence the duality of life, you know, day-night, good-bad, sad-happy, black-white (with the mention of a bazillion shades of gray in between them), yada-yada, even the darkest cloud in my life comes with a silver lining. I appreciate what I have more, my life, my love, the support and help I get without asking, and much more. It is nice and heart-warming. I think I'd better stop here, because no matter what I say or think about, I get teary-eyed.

So, since kid take #1 did not go as planned, we got a cat. At least this plan worked out fine. No, we are not replacing the kid with a cat. But the cat is a very welcome relief. Milo, 'cause that's his name, is a Russian Blue, one of the, if not THE, most loving, sweet and playful kittens in the world. Good training for when we do have kids for real, this one, as well, because it does test my patience at the most surprising of times. And I can't really do anything about it, it's a kitten who only knows how to play and for whom concepts of 'not on the table', 'don't chew my book', and so on, are simple invitations to play. He does help us (read me) relax more, he makes me laugh more (can't keep a straight face when seeing a cat chasing its own tail, or coming from the toilet with two drops of litter on its nose, or falling over from over-stretching in its sleep, too funny to watch, I am telling you).

Autumn is here. The August heat is almost gone and the rain can be smelled in the evening air. I love autumn and it has always been a very productive time of year for me. I get more things done in autumn, I read more, I learn better, I work more efficiently. I hope this autumn is going to be just as kind with me as it has been before.

I notice that I have only crap tags in this blog. Well, can't really be bothered to change that.

Now, I hope that I will come back soon(-ish) with more beefs. Because, let's face it, this is what I am best at.

This is what this blog lacked. A bit of a personal touch, isn't it?

Oh, and the title - yep, I reached one end of my wit. But thankfully, my wit is star-shaped (linear would be boring, so I like to think of it as star-shaped, it's comforting to know that you have more than one end), and now that I reached one end, I am coming back and trying to not reach another soon. The solution for my predicament is too evident to spell it out.

The music end of this post is a bit of Ol' Blue Eyes: