Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Sorting it all out (but perhaps still not making sense)

I admit it: I hesitated before hitting "publish" on my last post.

What if they all think I'm nuts?
What if they read it and are like: Awww, poor thing.
Or worse, what if they read it and think: "Oh shit. She's fucked up." (Or, for those of you who don't even think with the f-word: "Oh my, she needs help.")

I even texted Hubby: "Just posted. Hope I don't scare you into leaving me for someone simpler."

It's a good thing I posted.
The responses were completely the opposite.

Hubby? He laughed. Laughed. When I asked him what he thought, he shrugged: "Nothing. I know all that about you. And, most of the time, I love that about you."

And you all? Your comments were therapy. Anti-depressants. Magic. I don't think I have ever fully understood the power of a comment until this post. Those of you who "know" me, those of you who I consider my Blog all came out in full force. And then there were those of you who have never commented before, who I don't even know, and you wrote heart-felt, honest, revealing comments. Nuggets...little nuggets of wisdom is what you all threw at me...most of you empathizing, commiserating, admitting that you, too, feel that way sometimes. (So I guess it must be pretty normal to be abnormal?)

Your comments made me realize something that perhaps was incredibly obvious: I needed to just allow myself to be out of sorts. I needed to stop trying to figure out why it was happening, when it was going to end, and what I was doing "wrong." I needed to Just Be. Surrender. Surrendering: such a recurring theme in my life, my head, my posts (I went back to check...I've got 12 posts labeled "Surrender"!). When you mix "control freak" with "intense," you get a pretty potent cocktail. And often, I end up a little hung-over.

Your comments were like the morning-after aspirin and coffee:
HG: "Girl, if I were you, I would marinate in the funk you're in and ride it out."
Stacia: "I think funks are "normal,"(probably because I'm a funk-haver, too). I just have to let it run its course, like the flu. And maybe that's OK?"
Lindsey: "I try to remember, in the low points, that the highs will come back..."
LouBoo: "...the point being that I needed to not panic about my out of sortness as it would pass..."
Kelly: "Believe in yourself, ride out this funk, and know you are not alone."
Maria: "...sometimes, you got to simmer in it a little, so that it propels you out of it..."

Let it go. Ride it out. Surrender. Just Be.

It was so relieving to know that I was not alone in this. It was so relieving to know, especially, that I was understood...that there were others out there who feel "this"...whatever "this" is...and that it is, in fact, not a bad thing, not something to fight or hide, but something to embrace, something that makes us who we are, something magical:

KiKi: "Madness, envy, funk...the marks of a true artist. There is no medium, no mediocrity, because you feel so deeply--and that is a gift."
Inannasstar: "I too have really high highs and really low lows and don't do medium. My response? It's part of my charm."
Gilcelia: "I'd rather be chaotic and intense than simple and boring. I'll take complicated over comforming anyday."
Kristen: "But I have to believe that those high highs that come with the low lows make it all worthwhile in the long run - and that maybe we get light and not just heat by trying so hard to get to the sun."

All of this made me wonder:
What happens if you can't get this stuff out? What happens if you don't have a blog or a friend or a spouse to turn to? What happens if you are walking around, as I was, with all of this inside, festering, ricocheting around in your head? The craziness that is, in reality, normal, and possibly almost always healthy...doesn't it inevitably turn into something bad? The wondering turns into worry. And then don't you shut it all off? Don't you just try to shove it all down, close it up, snap it all shut...those things you feel that make you very high or very low? Those intense, chaotic moments of insanity that make you, in the big picture, sane? Don't you end up telling yourself to just stop? Stop being the way you are, stop thinking the way you think, stop feeling the way you feel, because surely, definitely, it must not be normal, and most certainly can not be healthy...
And then, when you manage to find a way to make yourself go slightly numb to your own Self, don't you stop being You?

"...the only people for me are the mad ones..."


  1. I think if I didn't get it out....I'd be either a) 600 lbs. b)popping 40 pills a day or c) in a straight jacket.

    Most of the time, it's the fear of someone finding out "I'm not perfect" that makes one go mad. The constant work to keep up a facade'. Uggg, makes me want to take a nap. I'm much happier and healthier just lettin' it all hang out.

    BTW, you rock for posting both of these entries because obviously it was a brave thing for you. Keep on keepin on, you're on a great path to self-discovery.

  2. Happy to be a morning-after aspirin...whatever gets you through x. Love the honesty of this post and the last. LB x

  3. I think it comes out, no matter what. Some people write, some drink wine, some exercise, some haul themselves to the therapist...everyone to his own. And everyone has their own timetable too, which is why it's so ridiculous for others to tell us to "just buck up" because maybe we're just not there yet.

    All I know is that this long, long winter is coming to a close, and I am so very happy about that.

  4. Oh Liz (sorry I had to go back to read the other post - somehow I missed it??). We all have our highs and lows otherwise we'd all be drones. Some peoples are just higher and lower. I'm so glad that the comments helped - it's amazing how we can rally around each other. And it's amazing how cathartic blogging actually is.

  5. You know what happens when you keep stuff like that bottled up? You become an unhappy person. You unhappiness becomes a wall that isolates you from all the people and things that keep you sane.

    When those moments come, ride them out. I will hang on for dear life before bottling up anything that will keep me from the happiness I try to surround myself with.

  6. I think I might honestly be insane if I didn't let it out. The blog has become more important than I ever imagined for that ... and, as you say, the responses, the voices back from the ether ... well, I could never, ever have anticipated how much they would mean.
    I can't wait to meet you at BlogHer!

  7. Yes, you do. Or you take risks that are way distant from what you know you should be doing. But then, at some point, hopefully, you meet someone or read something or watch something that helps you snap out of it, hopefully, before you're too far gone to find yourself again. Wow. check out my crazy run-on!

  8. I don't know how I'd have coped this last year without blogging - being able to describe how shit I felt about everything that was going wrong was so helpful to me keeping somewhere close to an even keel

    Thank goodness for blogging

  9. I've been very tempted lately to stop writing my blog because there are days that I feel it's more a chore than a joy (I know we've both written about this...) but then I realize my blog is MY PLACE where I can let it out. Have my funk and still feel loved. It's my place to feel secure when no one else is around to wrap their arms around me. If I didn't let it out, I'd surely go insane. I'm glad you have this place (and a wonderful husband to hear you out too!) to speak your mind and let us help you too.

  10. To me, both of your posts are such a poignant reminder that those of us with sounding boards (husbands, fellow bloggers, etc.) are so very lucky. It would be so much more difficult (impossible?) to ride it out, to surrender, to let it be, without such a solid support system in place. Here's to the way we are and the people who love us because/in spite of it!

  11. Hi Liz - I feel so lucky to have you and the other people in this community who so often verbalize my feelings for me before I even realize I'm having them. I loved reading the comments on your last post and your follow-up here because they confirmed for me, as they did for you, how fortunate we are to have our voices and people out there willing to hear us.

    I hope your funk is a little less funky today. If not, perhaps some P Funk All Stars to help you defunkify?

  12. This post right here? An articulation of so many of the WHYs for me. Why I blog. Why I expose bits of myself. Why I air my undercurrent of insecurity. Because we are not alone. So so many of us are riding the same waves of doubt, of dreams, of desire. We think we are alone, but then, with fingers shaking, we hit publish. And bam. We realize we are not alone. Far from it. Powerful indeed.

    I love your blog and perspective. After a short reprieve because of pre-pub madness (love the Kerouac quote), I am thrilled to be back here in the early morning reading your words.

  13. Oh Jack. That brings back memories.

    I think people without an outlet either create (photography, painting, writing, etc) or they go crazy.

    I'm so glad our comments became a lifeline.

  14. You write like you are in my head. I wish there was a magi way to scoop the stuff that doesn't mesh well out. I never ever have a medium moment or day. It's always drastic from o to 100 in less then 20 seconds. I hate it but honestly am kinda scared to learn to get rid of it, it's who I've been for so long.

    Writing is an outlet although I tend to hit delete before I post a lot of what's in my head for fear that I will have the paddy wagon at my door within a couple minutes. LOL

    Stopping by from SITS.

  15. Blogging is an awesome outlet for so many people, for so many different reasons. Expression, creativity, shared information. I am glad the comments were so meaningful. The blogging community is also amazing.

  16. I don't know what else to say other than I am glad you are out there/here!!


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