I often think that I should blog more, but the thought of what on earth I’m going to write stops me before I can click on WordPress in my bookmarks list.

I always think that I should write something profound, or something that will at least inform. Something usually about writing, as this is meant to be a writing blog.

Today, though, I have nothing profound or informative to say. (presuming that I do usually, which probably isn’t the case!)

I was looking at the statistics of my site, and was overwhelmed by the places that readers of this blog live. Places I have never been. It seems amazing to me that people all over the world have read these short paragraphs I have written.

So today, I am not trying to be profound or informative, but am writing from my heart, to all those of you out there, as if you were people I know.

I am sitting in my little lounge, which is tucked into the eaves of the tiny cottage I live in. It  has been raining all day, and the South African winter is definitely around the corner. My feet are cold, but I don’t feel like climbing down the ladder to fetch my warm socks from my bedroom.

I’m trying to be cheerful, but my heart feels very sad.

I was in an abusive marriage for 12 years, and never thought that I would ever find love once I was single again. Then I met someone amazing. A man who told me that he loved me. That he was there for me.

To someone like me who has only known heartache, that was like a dream come true.

He told me that I looked at him as if I couldn’t believe he was real. He took my hand and said that he WAS real, and he was mine, and he wasn’t going anywhere. That there wasn’t any problem that he and I couldn’t sort out if we worked together.

And then a few weeks after that, he broke up with me, saying that he was bored. That he didn’t love me.

Nothing prepared me for that. I never saw it coming.

And so here I sit alone in the cold room, and wonder how I can ever write love stories again. Because any happy ending I invent would seem like a lie.

I have been looking through my story ideas and almost completed novels, wondering which one I can work on now. And which one I can change from a romance novel to something that doesn’t remind me of what I thought I had.

A discouraging place to be…

I know I will get over this and return to the mostly optimistic person I am usually.

But for now, I find some comfort in knowing that all of you are out there. Thank you for your support and kind comments.