Something I hope to accomplish by writing a blog is getting a better grasp on how I articulate what I’m thinking about. The few posts I’ve already written show just how far from an original concept you can go when you’re writing. It seems like the most simple thing in the world, getting thoughts into words. It can be really challenging for me, especially with mental illness looming in the background. My mind doesn’t work as efficiently as it did before I started getting symptoms of psychosis.
One thing I’ve noticed since I started writing is that I almost expect the reader to know what I’m talking about. Sometimes I’ll be writing, and when I read it over I’ll realize that there’s no way to tell what I’m talking about without some more key words thrown in. I’m already changing the way that I write to better compensate for this.
I think what’s most challenging about not being able to articulate myself is that it makes getting help so much harder. I want to tell my doctors what’s wrong, but it just won’t come out. It’s this big festering idea in my head and it just wants to come out all at once. Maybe by writing it out piece by piece, it won’t be such a mess in my head.
It really creates a sense of loneliness as well, as I don’t feel connected to people if I’m not understood. And perhaps that’s an area I am suffering, I need that connection and feeling of being understood.
I really go crazy when I think about how we won’t ever truly know somebody. All the thoughts and feelings and opinions they have. We won’t ever connect with somebody wholly. It saddens me because I have so much I want to share, and so much I want to know about others. I think sometimes I’m depressed because we haven’t invented mind-to-mind communication.
What’s weird though is I have connections with beings that have never spoken a word to me. My pets are the closest things to me even though we’ve never had a conversation. Perhaps we converse in other ways.
I want to express myself, because I feel like there’s something inside that needs to come out. I don’t know if it’s ugly or beautiful, but either way it’s eager for freedom. I hold a lot of myself in. I think it’s toxic and depressing to hold on to so much. The problem is the disconnect between thoughts and reality. I don’t know how to get it out, I don’t express myself through any of the art forms I’ve tried. So far writing is the closest I’ve come, but it’s still so far from what’s really underneath.
I’m scared that I’ll die before anything ever comes out. That is a real fear of mine. I don’t really know why I’m so afraid of it but I am. It’s like I need to leave behind a legacy, even if it’s a small one.
I want to be understood by others, I probably want that more then I realize. I don’t understand why it’s such a deep human trait to want to be understood, but it’s there. I want to say something to somebody, and know that they’re thinking what I’m thinking. It can be exhausting talking to somebody who only hears what they want to hear.
I’m very lonely. I think a big part of that is not connecting with others. I have people in my life but the connection just isn’t there. I think I need to learn how to express myself to be able to connect with people again. I approach life from a visceral level, and I hope that I can find people who are like minded.
Slowly I hope to let go of the barriers of expressing myself, to push the boundaries of fear and shame. I’m looking for ways to express myself so that I can get it all out. So far writing feels okay.
I want to write this down because I know it will help me later:
Putting the work in helps, even when it feels like it doesn’t. We all want instant results, but that’s not how these things work. It takes time and dedication. Everytime I sit down and write down a little bit, I move a stone from a mountain. I might not feel good right away, but if I keep doing the same thing, picking away at it, things will change. Every little thing adds up. Keep doing the boring work, the grinding, the mountain moving, keep doing it until the mountain has moved.