Yesterday, after a heartfelt blog post during an angst filled day, someone here called me out. Anonymously, although I'm pretty sure I know who the writer was. You can read the full slam - it was my first comment yesterday, but I can easilysum it up as they said I should stop blogging about my struggles and invest time and money in a good therapist.
Many came to my defense. And now its time to come to my defense.
Writing is my therapy. It is time spent exploring, pondering, thinking, analyzing. Wondering. Challenging myself to figure out what's going on inside. Sometimes I have flashes of insight that change my trajectory. Sometimes I'm lost and can do nothing but whine.
I keep showing up though. I keep stretching. I know I have stuff, Listen, I know my stuff well. My stuff and I have co-existed for as long as I can remember. Self-doubt, insecurity, anxiety. I don't want to call them friends but they're always with me. Putting myself in situations I can only get hurt in? Old hat. Establishing and sticking with relationships that only cause me pain? It's what I do. But, Im getting better at counter-balancing. At putting myself in situations that are gratifying. That help other people.
That take me out of my head.
When I'm flowing, working, helping, communicating, I'm good. Great. Who I can be.
Who I am when I'm not in self-destructive mood.
Now it's my job to be there more and more, and how to figure out ways to let go of negative tendencies that run deep. There's comfort in that familiar pain. Awareness is my first step. Writing about it helps it become more concrete.
If only anonymous was reading this (they mentioned they'd never read my blog again), perhaps they'd learn something.
Writing is powerful therapy. Insight is a way in.
Exploration is growth. Most of the time.