You know that feeling you get when you're in the middle of doing something and you suddenly have this urge to do something else? Like...add something you've never tried before, and you're not sure whether or not it will actually work? It's not my favorite feeling in the world right now. Not even a little.
What's worse is that sinking feeling right after you listen to the stupid voice in your head; you realize that this could backfire, or severely ruin what you've accomplished up to this point, but it's too late to do anything about it. You can literally feel your heart sink.
Then, someone else who was involved or saw everything asks you why you did that, why you added that one piece that could have screwed everything up, and you cringe internally because you know if that person saw, then someone else who is much higher up definitely saw too. So you start beating yourself up, and the negative thoughts and feelings you've worked so hard to bypass come flooding back like you've locked them away behind a tall damn that you thought would never break...but it did, and now you're drowning.
But maybe you've never had that feeling. I wouldn't know, really. Most people, when they ask a "have you ever..." question and no one answers try to play it off as if they haven't either, even though everyone knows they really have. Since I'm not most people, I'm not going to do that. The stupid mistake and the sinking feelings and the overwhelming negativity...that was my entire evening up to this point. And you might be asking yourself, "why is she posting this online for all the world to see?" or "didn't anyone tell her not to air her dirty laundry?", and you have a point. I've even been told not to be depressed or upset if no one comments on a blog post that I write, and I've been encouraged to write a diary and keep it to myself, maybe share some parts of it with only my therapist or a close friend.
The thing is, I don't write this so that you feel the need to comment or feel sorry for me. I write it so that I get it somewhere that is outside of me. Yes, a diary would essentially do the same thing, but how often does a diary remind you to keep trying? How often does it speak out to someone else who may be having a day like mine and silently say "hey, I've been there, and it sucked, but I'm still kicking?" The answer: only when you're dead and you had some sort of great historical event take place that you write about in it (i.e. Anne Frank). And even then, that's still not really why I'm doing this. I don't even know why I'm doing it.
I just am.
I sleep. I eat. I write on this blog. And I remember how to breathe.
That's about all I can really ask of myself right now.
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