I should be writing. I should be writing a lot. I should be getting all of this out. And yet I’ve struggled, really, really struggled to sit down and write in the last five weeks.
I’m not someone who writes every day. I’ve never been a regular diary keeper. I’m not a “writer” I just jot down my thoughts once in a while and sometimes share them in blog.
When I have too much time on my hands, like I do now, my brain whirrs and thinks. It’s allowed to escape into places it doesn’t have time to go when I’m busy with everyday normal life. Sometimes they’re good thoughts but during times of stress like now they’re often negative or sad thoughts. That’s the time when I need to write, to put all of those thoughts down on paper to let them pass from my head to another place, public or not. Maybe sometimes to distract my head from the negatives and make it focus on writing about something positive too.
I think I’m generally a happy, friendly person. I think that’s what most people see. Those who know me well and who I trust sometimes see the other side of me though. The side that comes out either when I’m under some kind of stress and/or to a greater or lesser extent as regular as clockwork each month. She’s a person I don’t like. An irrational, short tempered, illogical, angry, tearful, mood swinging person. I try my best to avoid inflicting her on others. She’s as unpleasant for everyone else as she is for me. She was a particular beast this last month.
Part of my toolbox to help me manage that has become writing. Getting words out of my head onto proverbial paper. What I write often has have nothing to do with the mood I’m in. It may be something that I’ve been mulling for a while and wanted to formulate into something cogent. It could be something completely random I’ve plucked out of nowhere. Sometimes though, it does reflect the mood I’m in and gives me chance to rant to a keyboard rather than inflict it on anyone in person.
I suppose writing gives me a means to focus on something other than the bad mood I’m sometimes in.
I know it’s part of my toolbox, indeed one of the few that are left free and un-compromised at the moment, yet I’ve found it impossible to sit down and do. It seems pointless, whiney, self-serving (though I get that’s kind of the point for my head). I’ve been too distracted or under the impression that I’ll be distracted by the boy’s constant presence in the house. Too tired by the evening to have the oomph to open the laptop and turn my brain back on.
And yet, I know I’m being lazy. I’m creating excuses not to. I always feel better after I’ve written things down. Maybe I feel guilty that I’m not suffering to the same extent as many others so I purposely avoid those things that I know will help my “too much time to think head”. Maybe subconsciously I want to make myself suffer as much as others so I persevere in not doing the self-care things I know I need? That in itself makes me sound and feel like an utterly selfish twat! Maybe most things just seem kind of pointless at the moment!
This is the start of me trying to pull myself out of that pit. To try and write more. I’m not entirely sure what I’ll write about. Many of the ideas I’d had for blogs earlier on in the year seem incredibly pointless and irrelevant now. Of no use to anyone. So I’ll have to re-frame and find different things to let my mind wander on, be distracted by and put down on the page.