Okay, so, I totally wasn’t going to share this. I haven’t blogged since last week and that frustrates me because I have like 5 ideas written down for blog posts that I’m really excited about. But I can’t seem to sit down and write them.
I’m actually surprised I’m about to share what I wrote the other day.
To be truthful, I wrote it – by hand – in a notebook that I keep on my desk.
I bought the notebook to keep by my bed so I could write in the middle of the night if I woke up with an idea. I actually used to write poetry that way. I haven’t written a poem in at least two decades. Suddenly realizing that makes me a little sad. And honestly, I haven’t used the notebook yet for that purpose and I’ve had it since May. The only thing I’ve written are some blog thoughts; i.e. things I want to do but haven’t yet because….I don’t know why not.
Anyway, the other night I grabbed the notebook and I just wrote. I just spewed out a bunch of feelings. And then I slept for 10 hours. Which I totally needed.
When I woke up, I actually had zero recollection of what I wrote. It wasn’t until later in the day that I remembered and it’s been on my mind since. I wasn’t going to share it. I was going to keep it to myself, almost like a Dear Diary entry, but then I remembered that I need to stop keeping things to myself. Some things. Things like that, that mess with my head. Obviously, I don’t tell all things – you can trust me to keep your secrets! Unless you’re planning something awful and then, sorry, deal’s off. No promises here! But seriously, I feel better when I write and I feel even better when I share. It’s like I’m owning it rather than hiding from it. So, here you go.
manifests itself in different people in different ways. I don’t necessarily feel stressed but I have been incredibly restless the past few days and I am completely unable to focus. Being alone – or not around people I trust – only exacerbates it. I’ve worked out so I should be fine but all I want to do is move.
Except I don’t have direction.
And everything I decide to do is wrong. Or stupid.
I got in my truck to go somewhere because I felt like I should but I didn’t know where to go. I would have likely driven right back home if I randomly wasn’t offered something to do right at that moment. Providence? Fate?
Apparently, anxiety – diagnosed anxiety – is prevalent in my family. I just learned this. My uncle also has PTSD and some other things. Someone in my family actually made my grandma wonder if he was bonkers.
I feel like that sometimes.
You know, bonkers is a strange word.
Linking up with Amanda for this week’s Thinking Out Loud. I can’t thank her enough for an avenue on which to share my thoughts. <3