It's not easy being seen

OK. So I know I’m a “blogger” and I’m supposed to feel comfortable in the public eye. But I’m going to let you in on a secret: Some days it’s tough to put myself out there. Today was one of those days.
I guest-blogged on Glamour.com today (see it here). All day I felt so proud. 17 thoughtful comments! Triple my typical Sally’s Circle traffic! And so many people congratulating and complimenting little old me.
But at 7PM, as I turned off the light in my office and entered the chilly city streets, ice cold tears fell onto my cheeks. I can’t fully explain why. But I’ll try…
Sometimes I wish I were an expert on something other than grief. I dream of being an expert on juggling or knitting or flying kites. Imagine if I could write to you all day about kites. OK, I guess that would be a frivolous way to spend my hours.
But now that writing about grief is becoming part of my “job,” when do I get to leave this “work” at the “office”? What about the days when I don’t want to grieve? What about the days when I don’t want to relive my loss? When does writing about grief become a way of prolonging my grief and dragging me back into a painful area of my past when part of me is ready to move on?
Remind me that it’s therapeutic. Remind me that it’s important. Remind me that I’m meant to write a book about this experience.
Most of all, remind me that it means something to you.