I’ve been having trouble writing and posting lately. But I questioned whether or not I wanted to post this. Maybe I decided to do it because I know I’ve not been posting… or maybe I’ve finally realized that since I’ve written at least five different versions of this post over the past few weeks, I need to get it out of me. Yet I still have reservations… hopefully I won’t regret this…
I’ve lived with depression and anxiety for most of my life. And I hate it. Of course I hate it. I’ve seen doctors and nurses and counselors and therapists. I’m finally seeing someone who’s really good. Not because she gave me a diagnosis, something I never had until this past year, but because she really listens to me. She’s not even a therapist but she hears me more than any therapist ever has… even to the point where she sees that I’m not in a place right now where therapy is going to do me a damn bit of good.
But… a diagnosis is a double-edged sword. It’s a relief, in a way, to have one. There’s a real reason I am the way I am. It’s an illness. It’s not my fault. But when I heard the word, it freaked me out. It still freaks me out. In fact, I can’t get myself to type the seven-letter word in a post. I find it embarrassing. Like I should be able to fix it. Like I’m weak and pathetic because I can’t. Like people will run from me when they hear it. ‘She’s fucked up! Get me away from her!‘
I blame my bad decisions for the way I feel today. My fault. But should I be blaming my illness? Or is that just an excuse? It feels like I’m just making excuses. But… did those bad decisions bring me to where I am today or did the illness cause me to make those bad decisions? Some would say the latter. I’m not sure I’m on board, though. I continue to blame myself… to be ashamed and embarrassed… to hate myself for being this way. My NP has told me many times that I have a real illness… that none of this is my fault. Yet I struggle to believe her… to believe any of that.
Am I one of the very people I get frustrated with because they don’t think mental health illnesses are real illnesses? They think I can just ‘cheer up’ or ‘choose to feel better’ or other such cliché garbage. But it is an illness. I sure as fuck didn’t choose to have it. I wish I could choose not to have it and it’d be gone. Poof! I fucking wish. I wish my cousin could have chosen not to have cancer… but he had no say in the matter… and neither do I. I’m sure my cousin didn’t blame himself or hate himself for having cancer. Yet I blame myself… and I hate myself… for being this way. How is it different? The blame, the hate, the choosing, I mean. How is it different?
Please don’t run screaming away from me. I’d miss you.
©2017 what sandra thinks
I am so bored.
This has been going on for days. Maybe a week now. Part of it is physical… I’ve been having an exhaustion issue so I just don’t have the energy to do things. But fuck, I am bored as hell. Even staring at my laptop… at my fiction… writing of any kind. My brain is fried.
The kids haven’t had homework for the last week and a half… they’ve been bored after school. Tomorrow is their last day. The boredom is only going to get worse. I know some people are all about the ‘go outside‘ thing but it’s so humid right now it’s disgusting outside. Don’t know how the rest of the summer will be…
The beach is nice and not far but I guarantee the kids will be bored after about 20 minutes. Plus, once school is out, it’s going to be so damn crowded everywhere… ugh. No place to park… or paying a premium to do so. Suck. I know… I’m kind of a hermit. The exception is going to Mom’s (pool)… which we can do some days… but it’s an hour away with no traffic (which is never). We’ll go some days anyway… but not sure it’ll be more than once/week. Maybe we’ll stay over for a night here and there.
My daughter can come up with all sorts of little projects… as can I… but my son is not interested. It was so much easier to entertain them when they were younger! My son can occupy himself with his phone for way longer than I should allow… but even with that, eventually, he’s bored.
Maybe if I was raking in money, we could do more stuff… but you know, unemployment and all, I have to watch the spending. I wonder if I still know how to roller skate. That could be hilarious. Or it could result in injury. We love mini-golf… but not when it’s 90°F. Oh… bowling. I don’t know…
At least they have a karate belt test this afternoon. But I don’t know how to fix me. I’m empty. Even while I’m home alone… which I usually love even if just to write… I’m so bored… and the exhaustion is killing me. I’m totally unmotivated… and I could fall asleep at any moment.
End of whiny post.
Image from the book ‘I’m Bored’ written by Michael Ian Black and illustrated by Debbie Ridpath Ohi
I moved Fiction Friday to Tuesday. My reasoning was this: Some people have told me that my fiction is good and more people should be reading it. So, since blog traffic slows down from Friday to Sunday, posting on another day (Monday through Thursday) might bring more readers as those days generally get more traffic.
However, I haven’t noticed a positive change. In fact, views have gone down. Here’s what happened with views based on the average. (Yes, I am a math nerd.)
back to you pt 1 Fri +29
back to you pt 2 Fri +3
back to you pt 3 Fri +11
back to you pt 4 Fri +1
back to you pt 5 Tue -5
back to you pt 6 Tue -9
back to you pt 7 Tue -11
back to you pt 8 Tue -16
Friday was actually better… for views and for likes and comments. I have no idea if these numbers truly provide an accurate picture of the success of these posts… but for my brain, numbers don’t lie. Hell, maybe people have just lost interest in my story. That would make the numbers go down as the story progresses, regardless of day. But still, I think Friday was better.
When I take the numbers into consideration along with my lack of a good name for ‘Fiction Tuesday‘ (I hate that so much), I’m left thinking I should go back to Friday. Tuesday is just not working. I hope another change doesn’t cause a slump… a loss of readers… but I’m changing back anyway.
Since it’s Saturday and I feel bad having 10 days between posts (for whomever may still be reading...), I think I’ll post this Tuesday… and this Friday… and then stay with Fridays after that.
Hope I haven’t lost you…
And as always, thanks for reading. ♥
©2017 what sandra thinks
When I was a little girl
I dreamt of love
Sweet and pure
When I was no longer a child
I searched for love
Tempestuous and wild
When I was a young woman
I hoped for love
And thought it was coming
When I grew older
My heart grew hard
Hopeless and colder
Now when I sleep at night
Again I dream of love
And it’s what I write
©2017 what sandra thinks
In my never-ending quest to feel like a ‘normal’ person (fat chance that’s ever going to happen), I’ve been trying to drop some of the darker, more melancholy music I usually listen to… for a little while. No way that’s going away forever.
I guess this song makes me feel a little less alone. Not that these guys are going to come be my friends… but I must be one of some ‘us’ somewhere… somehow.
Everybody needs a place to call their home
Everybody needs someone to call their own
Even when you’re lonely, know you’re not alone
You’re one of us, one of us, one of us
One of us
Obviously I am not the owner of any rights to this song, video, or lyrics… just everything else… which isn’t much… ©2017 what sandra thinks
I hope you’re enjoying the story. I think this one is a little short… but it just worked out that way…
back to you. part 8. [previous: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7]
Posted in fiction, fiction friday, romance, writing
Tagged back to you, fiction, fiction friday, fiction-tuesday, fictionfriday, romance, short fiction, whatsandrathinks, writing