To write or not to write. The question of the day.
My head is spinning with a little of this and a lot of that. I know it helps me to spit it out on the virtual paper. And in return… it might help you.
It’s the time of year I should be talking about what to buy. What not to buy. Gift guides. Christmas jewelry. But quite honestly. I don’t want to talk about any of that. I write what I feel like I need to write. I share what is on my heart, something that just needs to get out. I hope that is OK with you.
But. The infamous “but”. Sometimes my words are too heavy to write. Sometimes I think you’ll get sick of reading. But truthfully… I don’t MAKE you read this. And when the words beg to be formed there’s not much I can do to stop them.
I struggle with how much to say how little to say and there is always the fact that I know my mother will read this. And then she will worry. As mothers do. However. Now That I’ve already said all of this, her worry button is already triggered.
Truth? This is a really tough time of year for me. Not as tough as it is for many. I didn’t lose anyone. I don’t know anyone struggling with illness. It’s just me. And my work. And the busyness which surrounds all of it. Totally narcissistic.
I’m in a rental house and in a rental studio and everything seems so crazy. I know moving here was one of the best decisions I have ever made. This place gives me a sweet peace. But still. I’m unsettled.
So…I wrote. I poured my heart out in the wee hours of the morning. I wrote from the depths of my being. Not writing to share. Writing for me. Writing to spew the very thoughts from my head.
I’m a processor. A thinker. It helped. It also drained me. Excruciatingly so. Not good for a girl prone to depression.
Now I sit here staring at a screen. I have mountains of jewelry to create. But right now I’m just numb. I hate this about myself. I hate the “too much” feeling. I hate the anxiety. The paralysis. But yet when “she” decides to show up, she barges her way in like an unwelcome friend. she winds into the fabric of my being. It’s like getting caught in a net. Struggle? It tightens. Think too much? She invites your other old nemesis. Self pity. Either way. You’re screwed.
I write. To remind me I am not in fact crazy. To remind YOU that you are not crazy. And for those of you who think WE’RE crazy…be very thankful you’re best friends/worst enemies are not depression…anxiety…and self pity. Very. Thankful.
Breathe. In. Out.
I am not alone. I am enough.
Truths. Foundations. Pillars.
Even though I know I shouldn’t. I still find it funny how certain seasons or certain situations can trigger those missed synapses… Or whatever it’s called. Whatever makes the label of depression stick. I’m not embarrassed. I still hate it. I hate NOT being in full control. Feeling weak.
Regardless. My struggling today made me think probably someone else was struggling too. So I wanted to be here. Be present. Be real.
Thanks for listening to my rambling thoughts. Remember….reach out for your friends … reach up for your strength. And know you are most definitely not alone.
photo credit: http://www.aoj-official.com/