I don’t know how or why but there are a lot of things that get left to me to take care of. I guess it’s because I historically ALWAYS step up to the plate, but that doesn’t make it any less hard for me. I’m feeling resentful and also really stressed out about a couple things that need to happen in the very near future, that I’m certain I’m going to have to take care of, even though I always do it and I’ve been having MAJOR problems with my anxiety lately.
I’m actually a person you can count on in most cases. I have, from certain people at certain times, been given a bad rap for missing social engagements (due to my sometimes crippling social anxiety). Yet people knew that when trying times came, I could always be there to count on. And I guess that makes some people assume that, even if I say it’s hard for me at first, I’m always gonna do it. Because the fact of the matter is, if something HAS to happen, I WILL do it.
So on one hand I’m happy that people know they can count on me, but on the other I don’t think they comprehend just how painful things really can be for me. Just because you run on a broken leg to escape a tiger, doesn’t mean your leg isn’t broken and in excruciating pain. You just know the tiger’s gonna kill you right now, and the pain and damage in your leg can be dealt with later.
Anyway, I just hope I can take care of the things I need to take care of, because it seems overwhelmingly impossible right now.
I’m starting to wonder if the thing I need to write is a memoir of some sort. I say NEED because I do feel the need to write, but fiction doesn’t come to me easily anymore. You know what does? Pulling everything out of my past and dissecting it over and over. Actually, now that I mention it, this blog has been incredibly therapeutic. I have mentioned a few things in past entries that the burden of has kind of been lifted off my shoulders. Maybe I’ll just keep blogging. I’d rather share it all piece by piece, I think. And it’s just here, and that’s all. It’s not packaged and I’m not trying to shop it around (which would be very discouraging because my life isn’t all that exciting and I’m not sure my writing is engaging enough to interest anyone. If I were already famous? Definitely.)
It would also be very public to publish something. And I know if I sat down to write a memoir I would have to include EVERYTHING and it would cause problems. Because I would be honest about my experiences, and they would inevitable differ from the way others remember things happening.
Honestly, though, I’m starting to just want to be more, well, honest. When I was younger I COULDN’T hold things in, and when I got older, I couldn’t STOP holding things in. Now I am starting to learn boundaries and I realize that part of healthy boundaries is knowing when to speak up for yourself and for your truth.
It’s a dicey time to come to this conclusion, however. The drama with my family continues to unfold. I was able to speak to a party recently, and was able to (hopefully) give some of an outsider’s perspective. I also realized that there is a particular circumstance that needs to play out for this conflict to end, and I’m just not sure the other party is going to abide. It’s honestly a really simple situation, one easily mended, but I think the other party is being fed poisonous and erroneous information regarding what needs to happen. On top of the simple mechanics of the situation is years and years of emotions and resentment and I know that’s working against the resolution of the conflict.
I feel my writing is a bit disjointed tonight. I’m oddly tired. I’m on a temporary new medication so it’s possible that is the culprit. It also seems to be giving me dry mouth. I’ve been meaning to get up and get a drink of water for like an hour and a half now. So I guess I’ll go do that and then call it a night.
Image Credit: Paul Hayes