I’m writing from present day- notice my fancy italicized text- which I don’t usually do, unless it is to give context to a post. What I don’t normally like to do is write about how I’m doing right now, as I’ve found value in some time having passed to give perspective in the way I craft a post. But I’m reaching the end of Part 1 of this blog and, readers, I will confess, I am having a low moment tonight.
It’s never been enough for me to work to make some money so I have it to throw around to have a good time when I’m not working. I’ve always felt that I must have some sort of purpose, and I’ll say that, ever since I fell into crisis a year and a half ago, it never became more important to feel like I have a reason for being on this planet. My blog became that purpose. I hoped it could help people, both depressed and dealing with the depressed. Indeed, there have been some signs that it does; one particular reader spurned me on to continue when I was having difficulty with a particular topic, to where I didn’t write for months. And yes, I’ve been reblogged and linked a few times. I see the validation in this, and no, I don’t need validation constantly.
At the same time, I cannot dismiss the fact that in this arena- that of an unknown blog- the validation is…hardly even regular. Mostly, readers are what I call “ghost followers”. Moreover, writing a blog is a solitary activity; the clarity of your audience’s reaction that you get from a performing art is not there. In writing, no one is obliged to clap when you have finished, and even if they did, you wouldn’t hear it, of course. You can see people have read, but unless they comment or write to you, you can’t tell if anything resonated or if they just skimmed over a couple sentences or what. The whole business is rather lonely, to where the idea of putting in the time for Part 2 (spoiler! I went back for more TMS a year later) seems goddamn overwhelming.
I hit 50 posts today, and I think back on the countless hours I’ve spent not just writing, but finding the right gif’s and sourcing them and going back in to reread and edit and etc. etc. and there is this part of me that is like, “Was this the right choice? Was this the best use of my time to help people? Was it one giant waste of time? Did this really fulfill any sort of purpose, or is it just one big dead end?” It’s Friday night y’all, and everyone I know is either out or in having a good time, and I feel really, really fucking lonely over here. I could go out, but truth be told, I feel like I haven’t earned it. I feel like I haven’t worked hard enough, churned out enough content, it never feels like enough, and so here I am. Here I am, about to write a post that will be quite different from the others in that it lacks any depth (or any real topic of substance, actually)…with no idea how to proceed.
Here I am. Where are you? Are you a follower or did you stumble on me and are reading out of boredom while you wait for your date or friend or your ride or sleepiness or whatever to show up? Does any of this mean anything? In a world of memes and puppy pictures and listicles and funny articles…where does this stand? It’s easy to get lost in the shuffle of that which is easily mentally digestible…is the time I put into this blog vs. the impact it makes disproportionate? Because at times it feels like it is. It feels like going on stage, night after night, with a piece you poured your blood, sweat and tears into, to have 3 people politely clap, and that includes the bartender. And then promptly forget about you and your complex, mind-boggling, in-the-weeds work. Except for those rare occasions when someone shows up and claps enthusiastically- and you never know when they’ll be there- so you keep showing up, keep doing your bit, even when the weather is bad outside.
Seeing as I only have 3 more days to go, I’m definitely finishing Part 1, and maybe I’ll write a follow up. But doing another 30-something of these…man, I don’t know. Maybe this blog just isn’t made for popular consumption, and while I was never trying to appeal to the lowest common denominator, I also hoped that it could reach beyond my friends and this one guy in Slovenia who seems to catch every post. I wanted to serve as a guide for a wider audience- to deliver more material than I can in performance. And if I give it up, well..I don’t know where to go from there. To someone like me, letting go of what you thought was serving your purpose- with no Plan B-is maybe more frightening than the notion that it may not be exactly what you hoped.
To be honest, I’m not totally sure why I’m even writing this present-day portion…maybe it helps me justify potentially quitting this blog when the 36 days are up, instead of continuing to cover Round 2 as I originally planned.
Or maybe speaking from my present, from where my heart is at this very moment, just helps me feel…less alone tonight. Back to the story.
I basically have no material today. I can tell you this much. Angela forgot to give me earplugs today, and I forgot to ask, and the result of this is that the TMS machine is
Like I can’t even figure out the source code to make that font any larger to tell you how loud it is.
There is no music today either, but it wouldn’t have made a difference because all I hear is
And we’ve been over that that’s basically what it sounds like with no earplugs. Like a jackhammer, right next to you, or woodpeckers in your ears. In a neat sequence
of 35 pulses, every 12 seconds, 55 times.
And it blocks out everything
And my thoughts get jumbled
And I get so confused
And I start a thought in the 12 second gaps, but then I know that next sequence is coming,
and here it is
and I lose my train of thought as that train zips through my brain, and eventually there is nothing to do but
(and in all my time writing, I never thought SpongeBob could so well illustrate a state of being that I’m having difficulty putting into words).
It wasn’t pleasant.
Back to present day: Not every post is going to share eye-opening truths featuring deep self-exploration. Sometimes, it’s so quiet around here, it makes my mind go quiet, when I get to where I’m not sure what the hell the point is in deep diving to extrapolate meaning from my experiences. And other times….Things