Navel Gazing

I would like to be writing more, but it's hard, for conflicting reasons.  First, my readership is scant (hello, you two!), so there's no extrinsic motivation to write.  Next, although I'm doing better, I still feel like I'm messing up more than I really want to share, and the messing up and trying to do better is exactly what I most need to process.  Then there is the shame of reading quality blogs that have a point to each post and/or are hilarious.  If I'm super focused, I can stay on topic, but I am still too deep in the middle of things to have a point, or to be funny.  So why blog at all?  The blank books I wrote in for decades would serve the purpose of processing and recording.  My handwriting, never good, has deteriorated to the point where I really should type even grocery lists, but there's no reason why I can't type a journal.  At this point, I think I am still hanging onto hope of connection.  If someone else can say "me too" or "try this" or even "I am listening"--it gives a taste of meaning.  So many of the fine posts I've read by other parents, adoptive or not, have lessened my aloneness.  If I share my story, too openly at times, and that resonates for someone else, then it's worth writing.