fucked up fresh start.

When I started blogging, I wanted my online persona to be me, but different. It was my chance to start fresh. My chance to not be known as Sandra, the depressed chick. No one would have any preconceived notions about me. I was a stranger. Maybe I could finally separate myself from that identity (the ‘depressed chick’ one). Maybe I could stop that constant feeling of others pitying me or looking down on me because I’m not conventionally ‘happy‘.

I wanted to write about… whatever. I wanted to vent about some stuff (and people), to make people laugh, to talk about my writing, to share some of it… you get the idea. It started out well enough. When I look back at my first few posts, I actually seem… okay. [I won’t say ‘normal’ because who the hell knows what ‘normal’ is?]

I never wanted to let on just how much of a disaster I truly am.

But soon enough, I slipped into my pathetic, needy, anxiety-ridden, insecure self. Soon enough, I was sharing way too much about my feelings. Soon enough, I couldn’t hide my reality. And soon enough, I felt like that’s all my blog was—exactly what I didn’t want it to be.

Now I feel apprehensive about sharing so much so often about my personal struggles. Once I’ve shared those things—those feelings—those thoughts, I feel that it changes people’s opinions of me. Like, in a bad way.

Maybe this led to my disappearance (or my infrequent appearances). But it wasn’t a conscious decision. I never planned to disappear. It just seemed like I became my depression/anxiety. It overwhelmed me… consumed me. It took over my whole life. I thought, ‘this is all I am.‘ And I hated that. I hated me.

Disappearing didn’t take those thoughts or feelings away, though. They are still with me. Sure, I am a mom, daughter, sister, wife… but deep down, I feel like all I am is fucked up. That defines me. Only that. I still hate it. I still hate me.

What do I do? Do I try to go back to the start? Do I stop posting about my emotions and shit? Honestly, I don’t know if I can. Apparently, it’s who I am. It seems it’s all I am. [Horrible thought: I don’t have much else to share.] Besides, you already know how fucked up I am. Not talking about it isn’t going to stop you knowing it. The cat is out of the bag. And, man, he bolted. He just ran and ran. I can’t put him back in. Besides, he was suffering. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to be let out. [This concludes my cat metaphor.]

I think what happened here is that this blog turned into some kind of ‘therapy‘ for me. Mostly the spill-my-guts kind. [And for the record, at this point in my life, I hate even the word ‘therapy’. I’ve been through it… talk therapy, CBT, whatever. Tried. No help. Done.] Maybe that’s what I needed this blog to be even though it was never what I wanted it to be. I felt like that was all wrong. Again, maybe that’s why I unintentionally disappeared.

I just don’t like who I am when my [god-awful] emotions consume me. I get overwhelmed and overcome to the point where I cannot think, talk, or write about anything else. And though I hate to admit it, I’ve been especially overwhelmed and overcome for a very long time. A couple of years, at least. I’ve had trouble focusing on anything else. It’s a horrible way to live. I don’t recommend it.

Yet… in my head, I’m already thinking about posting about how I’ve been doing during these many months I’ve been absent. But I think and rethink and overthink and second guess myself and… here we are.

Being me is a real pain in the ass.

 

p.s. — By the way, the irony of this whole post is not lost on me. On and on I go about my anxieties about posting about my anxieties while posting about my anxieties.

         

©2020 what sandra thinks

About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Hawaii where she could learn to surf. She loves books, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
This entry was posted in life, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

36 Responses to fucked up fresh start.

  1. Marquessa says:

    I don’t see anything wrong about using a blog as therapy. Many of us do, even if its through the fiction or poetry we post. If blogging to vent and connect with others works for you and you are able to clear your head, I think that’s a good. No fresh starts needed, just reboot in whatever way you feel is best for you. We’re around for who you really are.💜

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A search for catharsis is why I started too. It morphed into something completely different from its original intent, but, it remains cathartic for me. I promise, you are far from the only one of us whom may be considered fucked up. We’re people. We’re all fucked up. You should never feel the need to apologize for that. It’s the human condition.

    Liked by 2 people

    • But… you have to admit… I’m really a mess. I don’t think my level of fucked up is ‘normal’. I just don’t find joy in my life. I don’t even know what would bring me joy. In fact, throughout the holiday season, every time I saw the word ‘joy’ anywhere, I died a little inside. What does that even feel like? I don’t know anymore. What I do know is that nothing I do, nothing I have, nothing I am makes me feel good. I really hoped that starting this blog would give me a place to go where no one knew my life was such a disaster… where no one knew I had depression and anxiety… where I could be the me I wish I really was. But I guess there’s no escaping who I truly am.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Stop beating yourself up. I started my blog with the exact same reasoning. I had lost my father suddenly and I needed a place to just be me. With so much change around me I had to be everything to everyone all the time. There is nothing wrong in feeling your emotions. Show me one person who is in control of everything and I will show you a liar.

    Stop being so hard on yourself. You are lovely. You are normal! And you are human.

    Like

  4. I certainly know what you mean. I tried to keep Brutus from invading my persona but he has slowly crept up on me … he has inside information which I can’t seem to stop him revealing from time to time. I actually wanted Brutus to care a whole lot less about other people – I didn’t want him restrained by any notions of common decency.

    Actually- maybe it’s the other way around. It is me who keeps interfering in Brutus’s life. Restricting his freedom.

    I thought I wanted him to say whatever he wanted and … fuck the consequences. But I keep muzzling him.

    But, in the end, he is a (very ordinary) writer of fiction. He invents his own world. I just need to stay out of that world.

    So …. Sandra …. say whatever you feel like saying – even if you fear that you won’t feel like saying it tomorrow. No one is keeping score. No one is checking for inconsistencies.

    Try posting this …..

    ‘What a great day I had today! The kids were perfect and made me this incredible breakfast after they had vacuumed the house and unpacked the dishwasher. I had unbelievable morning sex with my husband before showering in the teardrops of angels and heading off to work. News of my promotion to CEO was already on everyone’s lips when I arrived and my immediate thoughts were of how I would spend the 700% pay rise – but there was little time for that before being interviewed by Elle McPherson for international television. I had incredible sex with her too (purely experimental for both of us) after a lunch of Champagne and Russian caviar. Apart from winning the lottery three times in one afternoon and receiving a personal blessing from the Pope the rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Im sorry if this post is a bit short but I’m climbing Mt Everest tomorrow and probably should get some sleep ….’

    Most of us will just respond with … ‘oh, that’s nice’

    Your posts are not you. They are just your posts.

    Liked by 2 people

    • What a day!

      Obviously, I think too much about these things. Well, about everything, really. I think I want people to like me, and I worry too much that they won’t. I know that shouldn’t be my biggest concern…

      Like

  5. You are who you are Sandra and I, amongst many others, love you for that. You are not going to change in an instant, none of us do. We are all complicated beings, and most of us, if we are totally honest, would admit to being insecure more than we would wish. It is difficult being adult, it is difficult being responsible and we all have a queasy tummy at the thought of doing something we are not sure of.
    Please do be yourself, accept the plaudits when offered – they are sincere.

    I look forward to every word you write, lots of us do. Please never stop.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I was just saying… in another comment… that I am overly concerned with people liking me. I suppose it’s normal to want to be liked, but I worry too much. And when people do seem to like me… or even tell me they like me… it’s hard for me to truly accept that because I feel that I am so unlikable.

      I know I need to change that. Not sure how I might do that, but I think that’s one of the things I need to work on.

      Like

  6. alexraphael says:

    We’re all here for you to do as much as we can. Your honesty and openness is one of the reasons we all feel so close to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I don’t think you are sharing too much of yourself. Whatever you share is just the right amount for you! By sharing what you have been, that’s being you and that’s all we can ever be 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  8. mydangblog says:

    Knowing that they’re not the only one suffering from anxiety and depression can be a tremendous help to people. Keep being you:-)

    Liked by 1 person

  9. battle66delta says:

    This was the first post I’ve read and I gotta say…ballsy. Ballsy, intriguing and I can definitely empathize with a few of the things you struggle with. My anxiety is so bad that I rarely drive anymore. If I go someplace public I have to have wireless earbuds in and some Me First And The Gimme Gimmes at max decibels. The VA meds just make me tired and flaccid and the world keeps getting more fucked every day, leaving me just that much more anxious. I came here to start a blog for some of the same “therapeutic” reasons you did. I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place. Then I came across your post and after reading it and laughing (not in a cruel way but that cat part was a great visual) and feeling empathy, I’m glad I did. And I feel, not less fucked up, just not as much like a pariah. Maybe the reason you’re doing this or the purpose behind it is to let us fucked up people see your courage and transparency and follow the example, thus leading us to express our own fucked up lives or situations without reservations. Just a thought. Anyway, thank you. I look forward to your future writings. Don’t hold back. Fuck it. Who cares? We’ll all be dust someday. Have fun.

    Like

    • I’m so sorry I never replied to this comment. I read it… and I remembered it… and I thought I replied. Only today did I see that I never did!

      Maybe that’s where I have value… in showing others that they’re not alone in how they feel. God knows I’ve felt alone my whole life. I’ve felt like no one understands me… like I’m a unique disaster. Well, I am unique… as we all are… but that doesn’t mean no one can see where I’m coming from. So thank you for this comment. It meant a lot to me.

      Like

  10. alwayswillin says:

    Post. Write it. It is read. It is you. Write it. Post.
    Please.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Peter says:

    Start telling me anything you want. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, whaat turns you on. Just get talking. I’m not a friggin writing judge. I’ll read and talk back. How old are you?

    Like

  12. I get it. I’ve done exactly that. I numbered my blog posts so I could see how far I’ve come. I’ve deleted loads from the beginning, but if I had not have written them then I wouldn’t be where I am now. It’s the process, the journey. Keep on keeping on doing what you’re doing.

    Liked by 1 person

thoughts? talk to me.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.