Use Your Voice

I’m fried. Emotionally tapped. I’ve written and deleted four (FOUR) blog entries because I don’t want to be the whining whiner who whines and sits on the pity pot in front of the whole internet. I’d rather make you all laugh, or write something deep and meaningful, but all I have is emptiness and loneliness and a broken heart. So it would be pretty disingenuous for me to pretend that everything is fine.

That being said, this isn’t going to become some gothy emo blog wherein I talk solely about how miserable I am and how everything is bad poetry and black eyeliner. I’m not 15, and I hope I moved past that stage in my life long ago. Furthermore, my poetry is AWFUL. Dreadful. Not fit for human eyes. I’m doing you all a favor by NOT writing it here. Trust me on that one.

But we all understand that under anything and everything I write, there’s the grief, right? The crippling grief that comes from loss and dreams unrealized and an uncertain future without a soft place to fall? Okay, as long as that’s  clear, we can move on.

PS: It doesn’t get a little easier every day. That’s bullshit.

OKAY! Moving on.

My compatriot (and boss) Sweetney wrote a very interesting piece on blogging that goes into the roles of Twitter and Tumblr in the blogosphere (yes, I used that word, feel free to kick me, I deserve it) and it got me thinking about the reasons I blog and it took four (FOUR!) melodramatic drafts, but I think I finally have it nailed down.

I blog because I can’t sing anymore. Before the coma and the tubes and the breathing apparatus, I sang every day. Even did it for a living for a while. It was my first passion, my treasured gift, my outlet for all my emotions. It didn’t matter if I was singing in the  car along with the terrible Top 40 station or singing an aria in a concert. I lived to sing. Music gave me the emotional support that I have always so desperately needed.

Of course, I took it for granted, and now it’s gone.

There are some days that I’ll try. When MamaPop had our writers’ shindig at last year’s BlogHer, I even tried karaoke. It was a dismal failure. My voice is completely shot. It’s something that reminds me of my emotional and mental struggles every day because it was my prize possession, and it was also collateral damage in the raging war between my brain and my being. It doesn’t work right, no matter what. I had to accept that and move forward.

I’ve been trying to accept things and move forward a lot lately. It sucks.

So I started blogging, really blogging, not just a LiveJournal like every other angsty teenager (the internet wasn’t around when I was a teenager) when I lost my voice. Sure I wrote before that, but not anything of substance, really, unless you count my post-9/11 entry, but all bloggers have that one, right? Anyway, I found a way to sing again through my writing. It’s rough and ragged and sometimes nonsensical, sure. It’s self-indulgent and mopey and depressing other times, of course. It’s also my one outlet for everything that can’t be cried out or talked out in therapy. It’s my lifeline. And sometimes, like now, it’s all I can hold on to.

So that’s where my brain is today. It’s taken a lot of tries, but I think I said what I wanted to say. Until tomorrow, of course.

It’s supposed to be getting easier.

Yeah right.

 

 


Comments

Use Your Voice — 10 Comments

  1. I always took that “it gets a little easier” thing to refer more to the habit of going through the motions every day, rather than the level of grief or badness that one feels. (Now I want to sing Buffy songs.)

    Even though it sucks, there is a certain amount of wisdom in the idea that if you just keep on doing the things you have to do every day, eventually things will suck a little less. But it’s not something that happens in some noticeable increment every day, for sure.

    Or, at least that’s been my experience. Granted, you are not me, so there’s that.

    I dunno… if it were me, I’d probably be sitting in my PJs watching Buffy, eating fattening foods and pretending other people didn’t exist. That’s just how I cope with pain.

    I hope you’re able to find some comfort, somewhere.

    *long distance internet hugs*

  2. It takes time to heal. And I’m not going to lie and say it’s going to be easy. But I *will* say that I believe you can get through it. Some days are going to be better than others. Some *moments* are going to be better than others. Be good to yourself, try not to beat yourself up, and remember that tomorrow is another day. The sun *will* come up. . . it just might take awhile before the clouds roll out enough to let it shine through.

    You’ve lost something important and precious. Loss brings pain and grief, and you’re allowed to work your way through those things. Keep a stiff upper lip if you feel you need to, but if you feel like you need to cry, then let it out. It’s better than bottling it up or burying it. If your blog is your outlet, then use it. If it’s too personal or painful for the blog, start a journal – pen and paper. Let it out.

    Above all, hang on. Even if it’s by the edge of your fingernails.

    You’ll make it. I’m pulling for you.

  3. I have no wise words for you on this as I too have fallen.
    Instead I send you warm thoughts, good mojo, and loving hug across the miles through Internet band waves
    My doggies send love too in their each individual way…. The pup sends lots of slobbery kisses, the next oldest she sends snores( in hopes you get to sleep in) the third will shake and give a gentle kiss, the oldest will consider acknowledging you as it’s all about her.
    Be well pretty lady.

  4. You are vair vair brave to share your life with us. I feel like I know you. I just want to tell you that I’m rooting for you, every day. I am inspired by your courage and your stamina. You are smart, interesting, a writer with a lot to say. Don’t think you’re alone, we’re here. We’re listening and caring about you.

  5. thinking about you, love your writing
    wish I had heard you sing
    but happy to hear your current voice
    there’s still music amongst the noise

  6. Sometimes it just doesn’t get easier, does it? Sometimes it gets harder, first. I just want to say I’m sending you my positive hopes for you. You’re such a talented writer and sometimes I think the hurt helps you write the way you do. But that isn’t it -it’s your voice I hear so clearly, that I would hear whether the pain was there or not.

  7. I remember, you had some voice! However, your blog writing is just as beautiful, inspirational, and passionate. Never stop!

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