I’m Not Okay

I started this blog with planning and care and great hope, but it was also a lie. I acted like I had everything figured out, even dared to offer advice, pretended that I was writing from the magical Land of Better. The words I wrote were true, but I projected the image of someone in recovery, someone who could write about the darkness in past tense, someone who knew how to stay fixed. It was not an intentional deception and I wanted to believe it more than anyone else possibly could.

I am not okay. I’m back on medication, have new and exciting anxiety symptoms, and have come close to taking myself to the hospital several times. Current mood is best described as either Do Not Care About Anything OR Let’s Inspect and Analyze and Criticize Everything I’ve Ever Done, Am Doing or Will Do, depending on the moment.

I don’t have a lot more to say right now, but I wanted to take a moment to open up and be honest about what my life actually feels like. I think I stopped posting because I inherently felt the disconnect between the blog and my mind and heart and it just wasn’t right. I did all of the things for blogging like setting up social media, finding (free, Creative Commons-licensed) stock photos because “posts should always have a photo,” created a Facebook Page, etc., but I neglected the *most* important part: writing well.

So I’m going to try to get back to that or at least writing regularly, if not well. No more stupid stock photography just for the sake of including an image, no more disingenuous posts about “when I was struggling,” just real stuff from right now. This may have less value as a piece of storytelling. Everyone likes triumph over adversity, not so much a journal of the adversity without the triumph, but I’m not writing for the page views anymore. I’m writing to do everything I can to save myself and I have learned that opening up about my illness actually helps. I learn to be less ashamed, to take ownership of my thoughts, and, inevitably, someone reaches out and shares their own story, and I feel less alone. I hope you do, too.


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