My least favourite public goodwill/branding exercise (HASHTAGBellLet'sTalk) passed by a few weeks ago, and I briefly thought about prying off that scab again and talking about the state of my mental health. The first post I wrote, about my time in the hospital, was a look back; this second post would try to look forward, as a way of figuring out why I've found it so difficult to move on from that episode.
Which is a great narrative, provided that I'm actually moving on--and not finding myself sinking back down again, as I have for the past four months. I could blame my job and I could blame school, but I often come back to blaming myself, and wondering if I don't have some congenital form of failure.
Right now I'm throwing medication and money (in the form of therapy) at the problem. It might be helping. But I haven't been writing. Unfortunately, most of what's been on my mind is me, which isn't a very interesting topic, and certainly not one I think there's a public audience for. I find a certain kind of toxic narcissism is one of the side effects of depression/anxiety/lack of resilience/whatever I have. However... however. Perhaps there's a reason I've kept my Blogspot going even as nearly everyone else migrated over to Tumblr. Maybe I need the outlet that early 2000s blogs, in all of their lumpy, barely monetized, confessional glory, can provide. So join me--won't you?--for a journey into the kind of surly, kind of whiny hallways of my mind.
Don't worry, there will still be knitting.
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