The fierce, unrelenting now

Talking when no one is listening. I can handle that, honestly. If you talk to a tree in the forest, who’s going to know?

Talking to yourself is only a problem when someone catches you.

Worse is talking, trying to explain, having someone I care about and respect sit in front of me and seem to be listening, but completely misunderstanding.

That is the worst kind of invisible.

I want to avoid the eyes that see, that judge, that misunderstand – but are supposedly trying to help.

Some problems cannot be solved by thinking or talking about them. Some problems simply have to be breathed through. Some forms of pain are not the kind to be fixed, but simply lived, by being present with them.

So here I am, trying to be present, 500 words at a time.

Why on the internet, you say? Why not a journal, why not talk to a friend? I need the invisibility and yet the chance of being seen. I have started journals repeatedly then given up. What’s the use? I’m the only one listening. So I stop writing, even for myself.

I have been thinking about starting a blog for many months, and I had half-made the decision January 1^st to do it, but I wasn’t following through. I kept holding back. When I contemplated actually doing it, actually writing the first post, I balked. I found other things to do. I resisted.

The post I linked previously at the Queen of Spain blog, about Sugar 2.0, got me moving. In that piece she articulated what I wanted – that feeling of community. I want to be part of the friendly world she describes. To do that I have to do more than read. I have to be seen.

She pointed out there are reasons our “cup of sugar” – our socialization, that talk over the fence with neighbors – is sometimes easier in the virtual world – sometimes we can open up on the internet when we can’t do it in real life. That  acknowledgement made me feel a bit more willing to do this.

Most importantly, she commented on the first post. Now I believe I may be seen. Which makes this terrifying, but somehow induces me to move forward.

In real life I have a hard time being vulnerable. I will talk about my depression – I’m not ashamed of the actual fact among acquaintances – but avoid asking for help or showing I’m struggling. Even when I have been suicidal, I have tried to control what I show people. I will talk about depression when it is something in the past, not something in the fierce, unrelenting now. I will talk about it at a distance, but always at a distance.

The anxiety is even harder to talk about than the depression. The self-hatred and self-judgement is even harder to talk about than the anxiety.

Positive things, dreams, hopes, wishes – like for a blog people actually read or to be able to share a few drawings or maybe – well, I can’t even write it here yet.

I just have to breathe into it, finish it, post it. Put it out into the world, and resist the urge to pull back.

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