Behind the Mask

The blinking cursor and the blank screen have never given me pause before. It is not so much that I am afraid to write. It is more that I have a hard time summoning the will to write. As with everything else in my life lately writing has become just another chore. And yet, like eating well and putting on a bit of make-up each morning, it is integral to my mental health. It is a catharsis. A release.

Part of my reluctance to write is that everything is a muddle in my brain. In the past, when I sat down to write I already had a sense of where I was going. There was the satisfaction of a beginning, middle and an end. The fulfillment of a well told story. Lately, I don't know where to start or even what I am trying to say.

The support and encouragement that I received after my last post blew me away. It is good to know that I am not alone. Good to know that others have walked and are walking the same path. The information offered has been written down and in some cases, acted upon. Mostly, I am overwhelmed by the power of this medium to touch and heal individual lives. In a culture that has grown increasing complicated and cold this has brought love and warmth into my home and heart. I am very grateful.

My hesitation to write about my sadness is a symptom of a larger problem. My blog, which was started as a place to write about the days of my life, had become a place of self imposed expectations. Let me see if I can explain.

The question "How are you doing?" is asked of me quite frequently. At church, at the kids various schools, in my community my friends and acquaintances ask this question. Often. And have since that day over 2 years ago when my life went careening off course. My answer is almost always the same. "We are fine. Doing well. And you?"
When lately all I have really wanted to say is "It sucks! Sucks! Sucks! It sucks big, long donkey dicks. And you?"

They are just expressing their care and concern. I get that. And by reassuring them that everything is "fine" I think I am telling them what they want to hear. I am also trying to invoke the power of positive thinking. If I say things are "fine" then it will be so. Only it hasn't worked.

There are very few people in my life that I can be real with. Even those I hesitate to tell the truth to. My mom and sisters worry about me and by telling just the tiniest lie I am saving them the worry. Right? So I tell people what I think they want to hear. "I'm fine". When I'm anything but.

And part of it is admitting that I am not as strong or resilient as I think I am. Or was, in a past life. That I wear a mask most of the time. A mask that shows the world the me I used to be.

See, no beginning, middle or end. Just stream of consciousness. Feels kind of weird and nice at the same time.