Monday, August 5, 2013

Tiny, Happy Things

I knew this time would come. The time when I start writing blog posts equally as much for others as I am for myself.

It was easy to get wrapped up in the idea that my words resonated with people, that I wrote things that people wanted to read. They liked what I had to say, they liked me. This served as validation for the hours I've spent in bed on my laptop. I didn't feel like I was wasting time because maybe I was actually helping others.

I haven't been able to write for the past couple of days because I kept thinking to myself, "What do I have to say that's interesting? What can I talk about that I haven't already said?" I realized this morning that I was in desperate need of a release, but trying to write by asking myself those questions completely blocked me from it. I've felt trapped in my head for days. I wasn't giving myself permission to display the redundant and mundane side of grief that is so typical. Thoughts about my grief aren't always beautiful, insightful, scary, or even interesting to read. But they are my thoughts. And this is my space to work through them.

I thought about making my blog private or switching to writing in a journal instead. Maybe this would eliminate the pressure I was putting on myself? But I decided against that. I still love the idea of displaying my journey publicly, without shame or excuses for my behavior, and allowing anyone who wants insight into this struggle to have access. I also feel that putting my thoughts online forces me to focus more and pushes me to make what I want to say into something comprehensible.

So instead of cutting myself off from a coping mechanism that has proven to be incredibly helpful for me thus far, I am going to just reclaim it as the original release I intended it to be. This will probably mean less eloquent and powerful posts, but it will mean more freedom. Maybe a post will ring true to someone who reads it, maybe they'll think I'm a whiny baby, or maybe they won't read it at all. I can't care about that. This is MY "x amount of time."

I wanted to thank the friend who indirectly helped me realize this today. Although she was giving me advice about how to get through a tough time by doing "tiny, happy things" that are just for me, she actually made me realize that this blog used to be one of them. The only problem was that it wasn't just for me anymore. I don't need other people reading what I write to serve as validation for spending hours writing. Although it's an added bonus to help others, it's not wasted time if it only ends up helping me.

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