It’s October 10th and it is snowing in Iowa. Well, was snowing. Right now it’s just friggin’ cold. It makes me happy. I have always been the type to wrap up in a blanket, or layer and layer and layer. I have always enjoyed the comfort factor you get from when you finally get all snuggled and there is still this crispness in the air. I just don’t know if I could ever live some place where snow occurs every tenth year or something. Or when a few flurries causes the whole town to go undercover and not move until it has melted away. I need to see those white fluffy flakes and feel that blustery cold every once and awhile.
I honestly don’t know why I find it so hard to keep a journal. Or to write every day, even if it’s just to say a small one sentence bit about this and that. I think it’s because when I was younger I let all my most personal and emotionally trying moments come out for everyone to see, and I enjoyed the commentary, but I know I hurt many people with my attacks. I have always been passive aggressive, and these open forums allowed me to attack and attack people who made me mad. I would write things on here that I would never think about saying to their face, yet I knew it would get to them. It was so juvenile, but I know there are those juvenile parts in me still, and I know that they still want to slander and mud-sling. But luckily the more mature part is winning out. However, it leads to boring entries, or no entries at all. It’s not that good things never happen to me, it’s just that I always tend to concentrate on the bad. Ms. Negativity, or Ms. Pessimism.
Whenever I try and talk to Jonathan about my depression I describe it as a black hole. Imagine, if you will, a black hole in my chest where my heart should be. It weighs heavy there and then sucks in everything. All the happiness, all the anger, all the sadness. I have these brief glimpses of emotion and then they get sucked into the black hole. I am then left with nothing. I am numb. A walking shell. All I want to do is sleep. All I can do is stare or escape in to novels or movies or music, and even then those things just feed the hole. My body begins to ache because I don’t take good care of it. The tension and stress of putting on the perfect facade, so that no one can see what’s behind it, tires me. It exhausts me and it makes me even more unhappy. This week I have been a shell. A body going through the motions of “normal” life, when in reality I have nothing.
I know I need to work on seeing the good in things. Of picking a positive and concentrating on that. I know this pessimism hurts me more than anything and it hurts my relationships with people. And I have been trying, but some times you forget what the sun looks like when it has been cloudy for weeks.