I posted a hub earlier this afternoon and I agonized about whether or not to trash it. It was a rant about celebrities and their crazy lives. It came from my feeling alone, struggling financially, and trying to find ways to earn any kind of money I can. My husband died suddenly two months and one week ago and I'm trying to find my way. I have bills because death, even a sudden one, is not cheap.

I should feel better than I do because I got a contract today for 3 quilts. Three quilts! That's rent for 3 months! Or rent for 2 months and food. Maybe even some more fabric for my own projects I want to finish and put in consignments shops. But I felt the need to quickly get over to the computer and write a hub so that possibly it would draw interest and clicks and revenue. I saw that one of my hubs had that little arrow pointing down. Interest in that particular hub has declined. My hub score fell two points. And I felt saddness. I felt sad enough to call my daughter at work to tell her. How low is my self-esteem that I felt the need to do that? (By the way, she was wonderful, praised my writing, and reminded me I have the draft of my book with a proofreader right now who loves my writing.)

I want my writing to be worthwhile. Right now I am writing mostly about grief and hope it makes the people searching for that particular subject feel good. But it has become almost an obsession. I want to be good. Not great. I will never be great. But I want to be good enough. I want to be good enough to have a fan base and frequent visitors. I want my words to help someone, to make some kind of connection with someone, but I also want to make some small amount of money at it.

Since my husband died, my world is so small. My hand-sewing is pretty enough to warrent orders for me to enhance and embellish jeans and to make custom designed quilts, but I find I go to check my hub activity every day. I think about what to write about. I worry about adding the appropriate links to enhance it, photos that might bring interest, and then sweat whether or not it will be popular. Am I pathetic? Some would say so. Do I have low self-esteem? Not exactly. What I have is sorrow. The one constant in my life who fought for me, who comforted me, who made my little worries go away with his smile and his touch has died and I feel vulnerable in a way that I haven't since before I met him.

I am alone to face a world that I know can be unkind, uncaring, and/or uninterested. I'm putting out my private pain for public consumption and, though I've gotten some wonderfully kind comments from other hubbers, I'm stuck in this darkness I've been thrust into since the doctor came out to the ER waiting room and said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could but he was essentially gone before he got here. I'm so sorry." I don't remember the rest of what she said because the absence of his voice was too loud.

And today, on this beautiful, windy, spring day, I am concerned with how popular my hubs are. I want to be liked. I have the good news of an order for 3 quilts, but I would trade it all to have him back again.