I visited a blog today where I was touched by the honest and open way in which she wrote. It had to have been difficult to admit those things, but she did it. And she gave me a little bit of courage to say a few things I’ve wanted to say but haven’t.
I’ve lost the feeling that I can say just about anything on my blog and be understood by those who read. I have given in to the fear that I’ll be criticized for constantly saying how much pain I’m in and how broke I am. I fear readers are laughing at me or disgusted by how much I talk about emotional issues while pumping out art. I fear that my entries may put people off so that they don’t want to purchase art. I don’t process things in entries the way I used to for fear it will negatively impact art sales. I fear those who know me as a Christian will think poorly of God when I go through family difficulties, depression or argue with Betty. I fear writing about the pathetic medical care given most of the time will be seen as me being unhappy all the time and a complainer.
Every word I type is in front of an invisible audience of judgmental people ready to search out my every inconsistency to try and prove I’m just another nut case looking for attention. I hesitate to talk about dissociation, depersonalization, hallucinations and other ‘ations when I know my audience has changed from when I started over a decade ago. Most people that read then also had DID.
I worry that people who know I’ve been in therapy a long time will be discouraged by my words because they might compare their life to mine and end with negative thinking. Or maybe they’ll think, ‘I guess therapy hasn’t helped her’. Or maybe they’ll think…….(insert anything negative).
I wonder if people even read this stuff or do they just click like? What on earth is ‘like’ anyway? So much can be read into an entry without a like. I’m going, what did I say that was wrong that people didn’t ‘like’? How can I possibly desire others to read when I hardly get to other blogs? I want to but it doesn’t happen much anymore. I could keep saying it’ll get better, I’ll be around more but that’s not true….. I have to toss the whole like thing out of my head and get back to what I’m trying to do.
What am I trying to do? I’ve stated my goals in rather cryptic terms for a reason but the main goal is to focus..focus…focus.
I care what people think of me. I care about pleasing the invisible crowd of arrogant, snot yellow judges more than I desire to speak openly about family issues. I’d like to get back to ignoring the ‘snot panel’.
I fear not saying enough positive things. I fear the crowd who believes I should put it all behind me and stop living in the past, pull up my boot straps and keep marching on. I can’t.
I fear writing that I still have times when I want to die or that there are times I want to delete this entire website on the spot and disappear before I embarrass myself further. I fear a few journal entries will be read, and judgement cast, that I’m just your run of the mill needy woman with serious mental health issues. I am needy. I am. I feel crazy sometimes, a lot, but I try to hide it. My head spins, a million voices churn in my head. I fight with myself! I hate myself! Tomorrow or later today I won’t hate me. It’s a vicious cycle, a roller coaster of emotions. I don’t feel in control. Thank God we’re no longer in the age of asylums.
I fear writing more about how I am so tired of being in pain from head to toe and that my hair is getting too long again and it hurts as it moves on my shoulders. I promised I wouldn’t cut it again.
And so it goes, the pile of fears that hold me.
So I Sometimes I just want to write the chaos in my head, line by line. I want to record each word as they come. I’ve done it a few times. Right now my eyes are closed and my head is down. I can only hear the fan and the keys. Its easier to write this way and actually say what I want, what comes out without editing, without seeing the snot panel, without fear of being called a complaining liar. It’s how I did poems recently and how I wrote about my sister. Its the only way I write now with honesty and without fear.