One of the blogs I wrote for was retired yesterday. I can’t tell you how sad it makes me, not only because it means I need to find more work (which I do), but also because it was the first blog for which I was hired. Essentially, it was that blog that got me into doing what I do for a living, and because of it, when people ask what I do for a living, I can say, “I’m a writer.” And I can’t tell you how huge that is to me.

In a way, I think I knew some scariness was coming — with this economy, who’s actually safe? — but I just ignored it. Like going to the doctor when you KNOW something’s not right, but it’s not so wrong that you’re able to put your finger on it, so you go on as if everything is totally fine because you’ve convinced yourself that it is. Until the doc gives you the shit-ass diagnosis you’d been alternately fearing and ignoring.

I guess because I’ve always been such an over-achiever, I feel like the failure of the site is a reflection of failure on my part. And in my logical brain, I know this isn’t the case — everyone involved there did a fantastic job, and we just didn’t get the numbers they wanted in the short amount of time we were live. Even so, my heart is just a little broken today, for myself and all the other writers who worked so hard there.