If I Were to Vlog/I Am Surprised By a Sudden Flood of Memories


I’ve been thinking about vlogging instead of/as well as blogging. I’m probably better at writing my thoughts out than improvising them to a camera, but the YouTuber concept intrigues me. I guess I would talk about the same things I talk about here, which I guess is mainly mental health, although that’s not what I intended when I began this blog.

My vlogging would not contribute anything to the vlogosphere. There comes a point, however, when you have to stop thinking about what other people “need” and just “do you”. I was taught from a fairly young age not to indulge in any content creation that will not lead to monetization. Which seems like a strange thing to teach a kid. But I was told that my efforts should always go to something “productive” and “productive” did not mean art for the sake of art, it meant marketability (and thus, money making).

Specifically, I was very into fan art and fan fiction, both of which I wanted recognition and appreciation for, but was met with lectures regarding the concept that fan work was a waste of time. (I can tell you it wasn’t; they both allowed me to hone the crafts of art and writing. I’m not a professional by any means, but I’m certainly better for having practiced.)

[Here is where my post veers off course. Some sections redacted]

Some who knew me back then have vocalized to me in the last few years that they felt I consistently acted in such a way as to be “different”or rebellious, when in actuality it was quite the opposite. I tried so hard to express myself, my authentic self. I never acted in a way to simply raise eyebrows. I just liked different things, and sometimes had the courage to express those predilections.

It was honestly an incredibly distressing and invalidating thing to hear, that I was thought to just be some sort of rebel without a cause, when in actuality I was desperate to fit in and be accepted, especially by the adults in my life.

Back then I was very conflicted because I did not want to disappoint my peers and did not want to disappoint the adults at home.

I was also in a bad romantic relationship. Trying desperately to attain the validation I craved from the adults around me, trying desperately to feel desired, all the while being emotionally abused. And at the same time, dealing with the constant criticism and ire at home. Often in regard to this abusive relationship. Why wasn’t I strong enough to leave? Didn’t I realize what a terrible person and example to my younger siblings I was being??

I didn’t know who to turn to. I didn’t know how to ask for help from the other adults around me. All I could see were these forces trying to pull me in all different directions. All the while never receiving the love and validation I craved to feel whole.

I’m sitting here for about ten minutes now, having read through my previous words, this tangent I have gone on. The thoughts jumping around. Not knowing how to proceed. There is a lot more to the story. Years worth of material and pain.

And none of it cut and dry. I’ve never been perfect. No one is. I don’t think that means I deserved the poor treatment, though. Right? Like maybe sometimes there is a bad guy in a situation, and it can’t possibly always be me.

I feel like as this blog (SACF itself, not just this post) ages and progresses, I will probably air more things and go into more detail. I’m doing this all under my real name. It’s always possible the people I speak of could stumble upon this blog, and see themselves. And most likely feel I am “remember things wrong”. Which of course I will! Everyone remembers things in their own shade. But that doesn’t mean that I’m wrong entirely.

Some people do not accept the elasticity of their memories. Myself, I have allowed people to plant doubt in my mind. When in reality, my long term memory is very good, even if my short term is not so much anymore.

In addition to my growing faith in my memories, I am beginning to receive affirmation from others who were THERE, who really saw, as a third party, what was happening.

And they are telling me the whole time I thought I was crazy, I wasn’t.

I wasn’t.

I wasn’t being treated well. And it did scar me. So I talk about it as the feelings come.

As I get older and my children do also, I increasingly realize just how fucked up some things from my childhood were. It makes me re-evaluate the current relationships I have with people from my past. Sometimes I think I should just completely cut whole parts of my past out. I’ve been conflicted with that, especially as some behaviors have continued and I feel less and less inclined to be treated as though I’m simple. Or wrong all the time. Or crazy. Or not wise or clever. Yet I maintain contact, wish for validation, and make myself vulnerable. Again and again.

I don’t think I feel angry. Maybe a little angry. Hurt. Hurt is something I would mask as anger as a child. So I got marked as the Family Bitch. Which is laughable, as I feel I have become so incredibly toothless over the last decade…

Ugh, I can’t keep going. It all wants to spill out of me at the same time. And I fear this all is coming out as me feeling like a perpetual victim. Which I do not feel.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been victimized.

Anyway, the whole point was that I’m considering vlogging. I guess vlogging rants like this?

I’m not particularly pretty. But I don’t need to do it for the views. I need to do it for me. For my self expression. Just for me and if someone else likes it or gets something out of it or, best of all, if someone is helped by it, that would just be a big bonus.




Image Credit: http://yesterdays-paper.deviantart.com/