White Screen of Death

I haven’t written in awhile, and I’m blaming it all on the white screen of death. My home page isn’t working. All of my other posts are accessible using their specific link, but kristymesser.com itself is nothing but a white screen. When I noticed it I googled and the first thing that pops up with this WordPress issue is “the white screen of death.” I closed my computer that very second knowing I wasn’t ready to deal with whatever that was.

Since then, I have googled it half a dozen times and tried at least as many ways to get rid of my white screen of death. It’s still there. I know this post can make it to you, so I don’t know why I’ve been putting that off. I wanted everything to be working properly. I wanted it to be perfect. But now I’m just coexisting with this white screen of death trying to make it go away.

I wanted to reintroduce myself. It’s me! Kristy. Just hiding behind a white screen of death. I’m in here. I promise. And I will utilize this white screen of death as a metaphor because what else would I do? I’ve been hiding in many ways probably since pregnancy but most definitely since Covid. I’m sort of a recluse at heart, so this reentry into the world has been too much for me to handle. It’s the people so happy about “returning to normal” that scare me away (nothing personal if that’s you yelling at me right now to come celebrate in our tiny workplace kitchen). I keep reading articles about “toxic positivity” that really get me right now.

I figure I will get back to a more socially acceptable version of myself in time, but I’m in no need to rush it. I may race in triathlons but emotionally I move at a snail’s pace. This whole pandemic caused me to ask some big questions about my own possibilities moving forward. Ideas that seemed so set in stone (that L.A. commute–the same one I had done so many years…so many Monday mornings I wanted to never exit the freeway and keep driving to Palm Springs) were turned upside down. I get it. People don’t always like things being turned upside down. It’s disruptive. But to me it was a discovery.

I do feel so much like that blank home screen. I keep waiting until I have big changes to announce (I now live on a farm in Montana tending to sheep while remote working forever!) or until I figure out my new and improved lifestyle before I come on here to tell you my secrets. But my snail’s pace means that could mean ZERO content for years, and my fans would probably lose their minds if that was the case (though absolutely no one has bothered to let me know about this white screen of death).

I wonder how it has been for all of you to live through this time, each one of you with incredibly personal stories during a very global crisis. I hope those most affected by the illness, death and limitations this tornado of a pandemic brought can find peace soon. I hope upon my 12th search for “white screen of death” I can solve whatever bug has hit the site. Or perhaps, in my most aspirational metaphorical thinking, I can create a whole new site on an entirely new hosting platform. Leave the white screen behind completely. Start fresh.

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