Tuesday, November 30, 2010
An Old Post That I Dared Not to Publish....
Some time ago, I wrote quite a few posts & never actually posted them here. I suppose there is a myriad of reasons I didn't. The foremost is that I battle depression. I have always looked at this problem as some sort of shameful, weak, element of who I am. I have been and am embarrassed by it. Yet, I feel somewhat safe here among the schooling masses and I recently, in the last year or so, made a concerted effort to deal with shame constructively. At any rate, this depression peaked so horribly for me that last summer I came apart. My personal life unraveled, indeed I was awash in a sea of betrayal and lies and my soul ended - bought and sold for a pittance. I was so very alone. And that part of me that always was, that background noise that I had learned to live with, that hum of machinery that we grow used to, could no longer be ignored. Waking to the icy inhale of a frozen February morning, I imploded in a way and had to rebuild who I thought I was and who I want to be. I am barely learning to understand myself & am barely learning, as a man in his mid- 30's, how to deal with life in a healthy manner. As I have somewhat alluded in my last post the reason why I write is changing as well. I admit freely that this blog (and almost any blog) exists to stroke the ego of the author. However, There have been unintended consequences & I have found writing to be surprisingly therapeutic......
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
It's been a while....a good, long while
What should I write after a year? That warm tug, that need to write, is easily ignored, but it never goes away entirely. I believe this must be because I solidify ideas by writing them. We learn our arguments from how/what we write. At any rate, here I am & I am already weary of qualifying this posting.
So, I never really stopped blogging or writing (by the way, I heard somewhere that using the word "so" is bad form, but I think the word has a great personality). In actuality, I've 7 or 8 different postings that sit upon parchment, waiting to be discarded or transcribed into digital infamy.
Why did I stop? I don't know fully. Facebook, that damnable rogue, had something to do with it. I can have incredible, thoroughgoing, conversation with Jokers far more eloquent and intelligent than I. One only needs to post a paragraph and rewarding pontification can go on for days. Yet, I still do not feel as complete as when I write a blog posting. In short, my ego needs more stroking than Facebook can provide. Also, my search for inner peace (and propensity to bitch) requires more than Facebook can give.
I am changing, as always. I am not the man I was my last posting, nor am I completely different. My responsibilities at work tripled during my second year, I now teach 6 separate preparations, and I was flying by the seat the ol' khakis. During my last summer, my very first summer as a teacher, I bit off so much more than I could chew. I ended up in a doctor's office (again) and asking him why I was feeling so crappy (again) and his answer was the same (again). Yes, I once more walked through my own customized dark night of the soul. Once more, I looked into the abyss. And I know that I will again. I curse this illness, and yet, it is me, and I know no other way.
I like writing, but I hate commitment. I am no Tolkien or Hemingway, nor am I trying to be. My purpose here is simply to express myself. I hope to post again, but I make no promises. A commitment will kill my expression.
So, I never really stopped blogging or writing (by the way, I heard somewhere that using the word "so" is bad form, but I think the word has a great personality). In actuality, I've 7 or 8 different postings that sit upon parchment, waiting to be discarded or transcribed into digital infamy.
Why did I stop? I don't know fully. Facebook, that damnable rogue, had something to do with it. I can have incredible, thoroughgoing, conversation with Jokers far more eloquent and intelligent than I. One only needs to post a paragraph and rewarding pontification can go on for days. Yet, I still do not feel as complete as when I write a blog posting. In short, my ego needs more stroking than Facebook can provide. Also, my search for inner peace (and propensity to bitch) requires more than Facebook can give.
I am changing, as always. I am not the man I was my last posting, nor am I completely different. My responsibilities at work tripled during my second year, I now teach 6 separate preparations, and I was flying by the seat the ol' khakis. During my last summer, my very first summer as a teacher, I bit off so much more than I could chew. I ended up in a doctor's office (again) and asking him why I was feeling so crappy (again) and his answer was the same (again). Yes, I once more walked through my own customized dark night of the soul. Once more, I looked into the abyss. And I know that I will again. I curse this illness, and yet, it is me, and I know no other way.
I like writing, but I hate commitment. I am no Tolkien or Hemingway, nor am I trying to be. My purpose here is simply to express myself. I hope to post again, but I make no promises. A commitment will kill my expression.
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