One Month: Inconsistent

One month…is that all it took for me to disappoint myself yet again? No habits forming here. Trying to regain control, but life doesn’t give a shit about your illusion of control and it will break it as soon as you think you’ve mastered it. I haven’t written for the blog in weeks. The guilt, shame and general shitty feelings about it grow and grow blocking me even more from doing it. A self-built writer’s block.

But see, it’s not just so simple to say that I got lazy and stopped. Things happened. First, people were reading it and that kind of scared me, worrying I should maybe censor myself or something. Then my cousin passed away. I thought about writing about that, well I did, but sharing it is different. It’s been very painful and processing through the grief is difficult and the writing just seemed to be a mess. What’s the point of sharing my pain if I have no objective than just to be sad? So I didn’t. Then I finally kind of started to feel like I could focus on writing again, but my house was a wreck and falling apart and I needed to focus more on Brewer and money is more tight than ever and then his dad and I got into a fight (which doesn’t happen often but when it does it is massively draining) and that’s how I end up sitting in front of the computer again with no idea where to begin. Thinking if I was a real writer I would have written about all of that and shared it. Or thinking maybe blogging just isn’t for me. The poetry is though. Maybe I should stick with that. It’s easier to hide behind; making people read in between the lines. Or something.

But I’m going to try again. I do have things to say. I just need to learn this new method of doing so. Writing to me is healing and I never want it to feel like a job or a burden. I already have enough guilt and stress on my plate and I don’t need to add to it. I need to write it away. Write it all away. If only it were that easy. Maybe it is. I don’t work in a straight line. It’s like a plane and the layovers don’t make sense but that’s just how it is, making unnecessary stops, but eventually ending up in the right destination. What I’m saying is I make things harder on myself sometimes. I dance around issues, because I really like to dance and it’s so much more enjoyable than dealing with the issue at hand. But I’ll get to it. In time. In my own time.

And for some people, they don’t like this. They want consistency. Well consistency and me don’t agree. We’ve never really seen eye to eye. Mere acquaintances we be. But my inconsistencies don’t make me less of me. My feelings and intentions are true. You need patience to be with me. To follow me. So if you’re frustrated by this, I’m sorry, but that’s just part of me. It's who I am. You may not get to read me weekly, but when you do, I hope that it’s as real and raw as it can be. The disappointment of waiting forgotten momentarily. Until the satisfaction wanes and you’re left with wanting more. So you don’t come around anymore. Its okay, I understand. You’re just like everyone else in my life. They aren’t anymore.

Do you see the frame of mind that I’m in? It’s not very healthy. Or appealing. Winter depression is hard. I feel weak. I don’t like to admit these things. I don’t like to admit a lot of things.