Sorting Out My Head

I have opened new posts and saved drafts about a dozen times in the last couple weeks. They get closed and set aside, dismissed as something nonbloggable. I think sometimes that perhaps I should have made my blog anonymous, but that was never the point for me. Plus if I spilled without inhibition, I would have double the anxiety of some day being found out, than I’d have of keeping it all bottled up in the first place. I want to write vignettes and describe things that are going on right now on several fronts, but the reality is that people I love read this. People who know me, who call me out on my shit regularly, who could be hurt by my words.

I was joking on Twitter recently about blogging being cheaper than therapy, but it wasn’t all joking. This is carrying on longer than a funk and my struggles with anxiety and depression are scary. Maybe I do need to sit down and talk all these things through with a professional (no offense to my book club ladies that have acted like an advisory panel recently on some of my life choices.) I’ve been to enough sessions to know when I start that I want to have an end goal and not pay thousands simply for an ongoing confidential whine fest. I thought maybe pre-sorting through all these intersecting anxieties roaming my head will help me frame what my issues are and what I hope to accomplish when I make the call for an appointment. So I opened yet another document and I wrote some more. It’s not easy to read those words or acknowledge destructive behaviors that are going on.

It’s no secret that alcoholism runs rampant in every direction in my genes. If I can embrace that it is a disease that explains but does not excuse behavior in others, why can’t I hold myself to the same standard? Hiding behind past trauma or my fate as a child of alcoholics does not excuse my own co-dependent behavior or coping mechanisms in everyday life. Dwelling on being let down by friends/family/lovers, and not having love reciprocated the way I want blocks the path for healthy growth. At some point I need to quit stomping my feet and blaming others. I need to quit wanting to get from someone what I know I can’t have. I’ve paid my dues in disappointment and therapy bills. I want it to stop.

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Filed under Of Course This Is About Me This Is My Blog, Wishful Thinking

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