That second just before I begin, when I’m staring at the screen and not writing, determines the words I later fill that page because whatever emotions or thoughts I sit down with, just rush to that surface during that very second.
However, at first there was nothing I could think about to write the past few several months. Then in the beginning of this week there was so much to put down on these pages, and now its that hesitation of whether or not what I want to say should be written.
There’s nothing oh my god crazy about what I want to write, in fact for some reason my mind just went black the minute I began typing this. It’s just that the lines are beginning to blur to what I’m writing about. I feel as if I’m beginning to be repetitious and just state my problems matter of factually to a point in where I’m beginning to get sick of it.
When I began this blog, I started in a place where I was more vulnerable then when I am in the room with my therapist. You see, the minute I enter the consultation room, I can feel the ticking the minute the therapy session begins. From that moment I just spit out one thing after the other as if I’m going down a list of what happened the past week. I either say I’m happy or I feel crappy but it was when I wrote that I described things to an extent that was almost overbearing. I would remember when I was in middle school, my papers would be pages of describing each moment and object in detail. I wouldn’t just talk about the color of the petals of a flower, but as well as the specks of pollen that were like freckles on each of them, distinct with their own character.
So as I was vulnerable the minute I entered that room, I was even more vulnerable here when I actually began writing about how I felt in each of those moments I talked about. However, it’s as if I’m backtracking from the true purpose of this blog by suddenly writing in the way I talk about my issues with my therapist. Which is when I sound like an analyst, analyzing what happened to me throughout the week to a point where I become numb to the topic as if I’m talking about someone else’s problems.
I feel so much when I’m alone but even though I’ve been given two safe places to allow myself to feel and hit my lowest points of emotion with support (therapy and this blog)…I don’t use them to my fullest advantage.
I still skip or move my weekly appointments. I write about things that don’t mean so much to me as I make myself to believe, just for the sake of normalcy.
I have so many safe places when some people don’t have any at all. The way I’m treating them isn’t fair on them and the one’s helping me at all…not me either.
I shouldn’t not write. I can’t not write anymore.
Because it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.