It has been a year and a half since I posted in here. That's crazy to me. On the one hand that feels like it was a lifetime ago, but on the other hand that doesn't really sound like much time at all. So I guess the question is why am I here tonight. Honestly, I'm not sure. Ever since I started using my CPAP to treat my sleep apnea, I guess maybe my brain has had the ability to do more than just make it through the day. That sounds super great... unless you have ADHD and when your brain doesn't have enough to occupy its need for activity it starts seeking amusement on its own.
One of my brain's favorite games to play is: Is This Normal? It's a really interesting game where you start to dwell on things about yourself that seem to starkly contrast with people around you, and then you start to decide whether that thing is normal or if there is something wrong with you. Today my brain drew the card, "Inability to build meaningful relationships." It seems like everyone has their person, you know? They just have this person in their life who is their soulmate, and I don't necessarily mean in a romantic sense, but more that they understand you in an almost spiritual way that no one else gets. It's that person who finishes your sentences or calls you right as you're thinking about them or who knows something is wrong the second they see you or hear your voice. It's that person you never have to justify anything to, that you never feel like you have to explain yourself to. I don't have that person. And I'm not writing this for sympathy or to get anyone to tell me they will be that person because it isn't about everyone else, it's about me.
When I walked away from theatre, I walked away from so much more than a hobby or even a passion. I left a huge part of myself behind. I lost my best friend. I lost... all my friends, really. I lost the part of me that believed dreams could come true and that art could change the world. I stopped telling stories. I stopped singing in the car. I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I stopped teaching. I stopped seeking opportunities to lead or to make a difference in the world. I stopped meeting new people. I stopped seeking connection with the people I did know. I stopped trusting that the people around me could be counted on to follow through, to keep my secrets, to have my back. It feels like I have spent a lot of the last few years just bracing myself, waiting for someone to stab me in the back or break my heart.
I guess the best way to describe the last few years is like an animal that sheds its skin except instead of shedding my skin, I shed all the stuff inside of me and am having to re-grow it all. Some days are better than others. Some days I can't stop singing, but other days I barely speak. Some days I feel like an irreplaceable part of the group, but other days I am crying because no one asked me to go out with them on a Friday night. Some days I am incredibly passionate about making the world better, but other days all I care about is what's recorded on the DVR at home. Some days I am perfectly happy handling whatever I'm dealing with alone, but other days I wish that I just had someone to call who would understand me... like I used to.
And I guess that's probably why I'm here right now writing this.
One of my brain's favorite games to play is: Is This Normal? It's a really interesting game where you start to dwell on things about yourself that seem to starkly contrast with people around you, and then you start to decide whether that thing is normal or if there is something wrong with you. Today my brain drew the card, "Inability to build meaningful relationships." It seems like everyone has their person, you know? They just have this person in their life who is their soulmate, and I don't necessarily mean in a romantic sense, but more that they understand you in an almost spiritual way that no one else gets. It's that person who finishes your sentences or calls you right as you're thinking about them or who knows something is wrong the second they see you or hear your voice. It's that person you never have to justify anything to, that you never feel like you have to explain yourself to. I don't have that person. And I'm not writing this for sympathy or to get anyone to tell me they will be that person because it isn't about everyone else, it's about me.
When I walked away from theatre, I walked away from so much more than a hobby or even a passion. I left a huge part of myself behind. I lost my best friend. I lost... all my friends, really. I lost the part of me that believed dreams could come true and that art could change the world. I stopped telling stories. I stopped singing in the car. I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I stopped teaching. I stopped seeking opportunities to lead or to make a difference in the world. I stopped meeting new people. I stopped seeking connection with the people I did know. I stopped trusting that the people around me could be counted on to follow through, to keep my secrets, to have my back. It feels like I have spent a lot of the last few years just bracing myself, waiting for someone to stab me in the back or break my heart.
I guess the best way to describe the last few years is like an animal that sheds its skin except instead of shedding my skin, I shed all the stuff inside of me and am having to re-grow it all. Some days are better than others. Some days I can't stop singing, but other days I barely speak. Some days I feel like an irreplaceable part of the group, but other days I am crying because no one asked me to go out with them on a Friday night. Some days I am incredibly passionate about making the world better, but other days all I care about is what's recorded on the DVR at home. Some days I am perfectly happy handling whatever I'm dealing with alone, but other days I wish that I just had someone to call who would understand me... like I used to.
And I guess that's probably why I'm here right now writing this.
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