It has been a rough couple weeks, as usual. Lots of self doubt, reflection, and conclusion making. Those activities then lead to increases in my low self worth, depression and crying fits. I'm a fun girl to be around right now. Honestly, though, I only have my cats around me so I suppose that's a plus?
Actually, it's only a plus for other people and not me which I guess is a good thing. I don't want to make other people uncomfortable/mad/upset/annoyed/etc. The last couple weeks have just been a reminder of how alone and invisible I am. Silly things, and not so silly things, have happened to reiterate that and they bother me and I let them eat me up. I'm sensitive; that's who I am. I get confused on the whole change thing. If I change my sensitivity aren't I changing who I am? It's very confusing and I'm probably being silly. After all, that was a big revelation from these last two weeks - I am a silly girl.
Silly not as in laugh-a-riot; silly as in stupid. I've realized that I've been a silly girl all my life and still am. How so, you may ask? The first thing is in trust. I have always trusted people even after they should have earned my distrust. I've been doing that from a young age and yet I've never learned. I believe people when they say they care or that they'll help me if I need it. When I muster up the courage to ask, I am left disappointed as what they said does not ring true. I just wish people understood that words are powerful. If you tell me you'll help or visit me when I'm sick or that you care about me, I actually do believe you.
And then I get hurt.
I can only speak about how that affects me; we're all different after all. For me, this hurt just clarifies how invisible I am and backs up my belief that I don't matter. It wasn't until I was diagnosed with cancer did I begin to realize this but it's so evident now. One would think that being diagnosed with the big C would bring the humanity out in the people around me but that wasn't the case nor is it now. Not even my family was concerned then or now.
As humans we want to matter to people, I've mentioned that before in a blog, and we want to be validated. We want to be seen. I'm not saying the world should revolve around us but when things like forgotten birthdays happen, it just verifies to a person like me that I don't matter. I live my life like a two way street; I give as best I can, try to be a nice person in the hopes that that is returned. Often, like crazy often, it's not which fuels my low self worth. I actually have a saying I repeat to myself (I've blogged this before) to try and lessen the hurt - it doesn't matter because I don't matter. I use it for a lot of things in real life and on Twitter. I isolate myself in both real life and online which, as usual, goes unnoticed. And I know, is not a good thing to do.
The hurt also fuels my social anxiety. I have said this before but if I ever win the lottery, I would not be happy because I can finally stop struggling financially but I would be able to quit my teaching job and never have to leave my apartment. Then, I could write full-time.
Writing, now there's something else I've suddenly started to doubt. Yes, I have had my first book published but to be honest, I still don't know if I'm any good. People I know have told me Sunset Park is good but there's the key - people I know. I understand it's hard to tell someone they know that their creative piece maybe isn't up to par. I get that but even in the editing process for my novel, how my story was (like plot-wise or my style of writing, character development, etc.) was never addressed. To this day, I really don't know if my book is any good. Yes, a small publisher bought it and people I know have told me it's good but is it really? I feel like I'm offending those people who told me it was good. I'm sorry, I don't mean to. I actually have a hard time accepting compliments. Thank you to those who said my book was good but I still have my doubts.
I love writing; it's what I want to do full-time but if I really am not good at it, I think I would be crushed. I won't think it; I know i would be. It's one of only two things that keeps me going most days. I want to be successful at it. I want to share the stories I create but if I suck, my stories will just sit there on my computer. That's tough for a writer to accept. I've struggled this week because of my writing self-doubt. I want this so bad but again, what if I truly am a bad writer? How do I know my publisher didn't make a mistake?
The last coupe weeks have been so tiring; I just want a break. My sinuses need a break and so do my ears. Crying is a very physical thing. It's a great release but if you do it a lot, it's bothersome. And in case you're wondering and haven't read my blog before, I've gone the medication/therapy route before and that did not work for me at all. They actually made things worse for me. Putting my troubles into words is better for me even though I worry that my gray blog entries are just more of the same each time but this is me for right now.
Dana
Sent from my iPhone
No comments:
Post a Comment