I’m not sure if you’ve noticed. Maybe you haven’t thought twice. I’d like to believe that perhaps it’s been overlooked, but I’m quite sure it has not. And if you know me- really know me, it’s glaringly obvious.

Yes. Yes, I am struggling. Yes, I have been verbally vomiting my feelings for the whole world to see. Yes, I am turning into that girl.

After my last, um, maybe all entries since I took up blogging a couple months back, you can see a tinge of the girl I reference- if not a full blown image. You know her, I’m sure, she’s the one you can barely stand to be around because all she has to say is negative. And I don’t mean the life-sucks negative, or even the life-is-less-good-than-bad negative. I mean the I-hate-my-hair, we-have-no-food, I’m so sick-of-job-hunting, why-am-I-not-writing, jesus-lady-learn-to-drive, I-should-take-my-vitamins, I-shouldn’t-have-done-that, what-an-asshole, we-can’t-afford-it, it’s-all-my-fault, oh-my-aching-neck, you-don’t-listen, that’s-too-expensive-fuck-it-I’m-going-to-bed negativity. All day, all the time. Everyday negativity about Eh.Ver.E.Thing.

And everything, obviously, has affected my writing.

Of course, biology plays a larger part than not- it isn’t as easy as merely talking myself out of the funk. Rather, all I can do to resist what just is at this moment,  is to attempt to at least play a conscious part- however minute it may be, in the end result. So in this, my first step is to start writing about some things outside of the immediate disasters I’m going through.

I’ve been a lifelong journal keeper, although in my adult years, much less so, (and, by the way, the teenage years are a load of hilarity that I’ll have to share one day). Blogging has been natural to me in the sense of journaling what was going on in my life- although doing it in a forum for the world to see is quite different. As a consequence, initially, blogging was less about me journaling my feelings, and more about writing, and, in my own fears, opening myself up to judgement. Not surprisingly, this kept me on the slow track, one entry becoming a five-to-seven day process of editing, erasing, and rewriting- only to finally publish simply because I’m sick of trying to fix it anymore.

Still, in all the real life I have endured over the months, I saw that I am not unique in the better part of them. Turns out, we’re all experiencing this thing called life- every last one of us. We all live, we’ve all been through varying degrees of struggle, we all have regrets, we all fuck up (and many of us repeat our fuck ups- sometimes too many times to count), and, hopefully, we all learn. But we’re all -as I’ve become fond of saying- human beings, being humans. So I keep writing.

In blogging, I don’t want to commiserate with the world, and neither do I wish to convey a sense of victimization in this respect. I just want to share. I just want to acknowledge this is life, and we all got a bad case of it- the good, the bad, and the ugly.

This being the case, I have realized that, while my entries are certainly representing what I am going through at this particular time in my life, I am acknowledging nothing good, for the most part. And good things are happening. Instead of recognizing them, though, I’m conveying only struggle. And while this is part of my life story at this point, it isn’t an accurate portrayal of everything. 

Jay used to tell me that I only journaled when I was upset about something, a sentiment I often argued with defensively. Today I went back to read some entries over the last ten years, and found he was right; I wrote when I was hurting, and only occasionally at any other time. I don’t want to remember myself for only the struggles in my life, and I certainly don’t want my family to remember me in that way. That said, I don’t want to leave these things unsaid just as much- life is happening, and, hey, sometimes it’s not pretty. 

So, keeping this in mind- and not without recognizing that a shift in focus could be a very good thing for me mentally, I’m utilizing my vision of how I do wish to be remembered- not only as a woman struggling through life- because there will always be something, but also as a mother, sister, daughter, friend, writer, giver, adventurer, and a fun-loving, all around cool (or so I like to think) chic. And it sure would be great to see the positive side of my marriage, rather than reading about all of the negative.

Sure, life- and certainly physiology, happens, and I’ll be back here working through things by writing about them (and telling myself my narcissism has value), and not holding back in what I feel the need to say. And (hopefully) in-between these entries of real life, I’m going to take the next step in force feeding creativity, by offering myself a writing prompt outside of my daily reality. And, in pursuit of allowing the Writer within to emerge – the one I shove deep into my gut just when I seem to get her going- the one I seem to fear as much as I thirst for, I will write. And for my part? I’m pretty eager to get to know myself.

Stay tuned, Peeps. Where we’re going, we don’t need roads. But, Prozac? We’ll need that for sure.