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.