I sort of lied

It’s not exactly that there’s no news, just… no good news.

I used to keep paper journals. I think I started when I was 18. And I wrote quite a lot, through maybe four of my six attempts at college, all of my romantic relationships, the death of my dad, and many, many travels. Over time, I found that my journal was not really an accurate reflection of my life, in that when I was busy and happy, I didn’t have much time to write, and when I was feeling wretched, writing really helped me dwell on every tiny detail of my misery, so the bad is heavily overrepresented. And tedious.

Then I had a kind of epiphany, oh, around late 2001, I think. In an email to Kelly I mentioned that my husband had been getting on my last nerve lately, but didn’t give details. And you know, email replies contain the original message, so when she wrote back a few days later I saw that bit again, and I could not remember a single detail about what he had done to annoy me. Nothing. It occurred to me then that all of that obsessive writing on the bad bits of my life may have given them more significance than they really deserved, and that sometimes, problems really do go away if you ignore them. This has turned out to be true.

This is not to say that people shouldn’t ever write about the bad things in their lives – communicating about tragedy is one of the ways we process it so we can move on, and that’s really important. But I think I gave some of mine too much attention, and thus too much power over me.

So I really try not to do that on this blog. I don’t want to bum y’all out, and I don’t really want to give my problems more of a life than they already have. At the same time, though, I might need to process this latest setback. I don’t know.

I had a run-in with Ignatz’s therapist a couple weeks ago, and it’s really shaken me. I don’t want to give it too much power, so I’ve been waiting for it to blow over, but it doesn’t seem to be going away. So I’ve been anxious and frustrated and depressed since then, and I’ve tried to talk it through with a couple people and I just can’t seem to get my point across, which is leading me to suspect that I must be wrong.

Strangely, that does not comfort me, not even a little.

Song du jour of the day: Fragile, by Sting


4 responses to “I sort of lied

  • amy

    I have journals that make me cringe, but my depressed, melodramatic entries are usually more interesting to read now than the happy journal entries, and better written, too. I tended to get repetitive with the happy stuff, whereas I could always find new ways to wallow.

    Maybe it’s not that you’re wrong, but that the other people aren’t able to receive your point. Not knowing who they are or what their relationship is to you, Ignatz, or the therapist, I can’t say, but mama instincts are generally good instincts. I hope a solution, or at least a lifting of the anxiousness, appears soon.

  • alala

    Oh, I got repetitive with the bummers – very cringeworthy stuff there.

    Mama instincts… can be good. They can also be, um, not. Okay, the comment I was about to write is long enough to have its own blog entry. I’ll try to get that de-cobwebbed and up tomorrow.

  • Melanie

    All love to you. Hey, let’s talk on the phone! Email me your number, k?

  • Laume

    I totally understand that whole skewed journal thing. I read journals from long ago and it’s just one long pity party. YAWWWWN. But, I read old letters that I wrote to my sister during the years she was overseas and she had the good sense to send back to me later, and I find I had a really wonderful, interesting life full of all sorts of things I would have forgotten about if I hadn’t written about them to her. That’s what’s nice about blogging – it keeps me from getting too heavy. Although I do complain and angst, just not on the ‘net.

    I don’t know what to say about Ignatz. You really haven’t given enough info on what the therapist said or what you were trying to express. It’s nice that you’re willing to looking at the other perspectives than your own. That’s a healthy attitude. But just because you couldn’t explain yourself in a way that others could understand doesn’t necessarily mean you’re wrong. All I can do is give you a big cyberhug.

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