Grasping for Real Connection

I triggered myself the other day.

I was digging through my site stats, trying to understand what truly connects. I already knew September was an anomaly… but I didn’t know it hit over a million views.

I should have done a celebratory backflip, but I'd have landed straight on my large head and been out for the rest of the year. I also have a brain that never stops juggling thousands of thoughts, and sometimes some are less than optimistic.

All those views… yet hardly any comments. Almost no shares. Barely any new newsletter subscribers. Mostly casual readers and search traffic. A giant number with very little proof of real connection.

Have I truly connected with anyone?

And of course, I conveniently forget the people who have reached out. The “who’s cutting onions?” messages and emails thanking me for how my words touched them. The folks who tell me to keep writing because it matters.

But that old doubt settles in fast, and the fear that I’ll soon be forgotten, and that the kind words are a mirage.

It brought me right back to childhood and adolescence. Honestly… to now. I’ve always loved people, but I’ve struggled to believe I matter to them. I could get laughs; I was the quirky, fun guy. But often it felt like I was there for amusement, not connection.

Some days, I still feel that way. Some days, I’m not sure how to get past it, or if I have the energy to try.

But here’s what I do know:

Connection has happened.

Not every day. Not every post. Not every reader.

But when it does, it’s pure magic. And it’s why I keep writing.

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