I finally figured out why the heck I’m writing this blog. I’m talking to myself.
You see, over the last week or so I’ve publicly spilled the beans on various challenges I’m working through including depression, ADD, business, etc. But I haven’t really been sure why I’ve been doing this. There are some things I’ve talked about on here, where anyone can read, that I have a hard time talking to anyone, even my wife, about. Yet, I’ve felt compelled to write. But, why?!
Yesterday I wrote about the low I hit in my depression earlier this month. I explained the feelings of worthlessness, apathy, and a lot more. I’m not exagerating when I say that I’ve never been that candid with anyone about how I’m feeling, ever.
There was a part of me that was hoping it would be a widely read article. That didn’t happen, which is ok because I also didn’t really want people reading my private thoughts. There was also part of me that was hoping the few people I consider close friends would see it and tell me they care. (I suspect my close friends don’t spend as much time online as I do, which is OK.) I did, however, receive long emails from a family member and guy I worked with years ago. Both messages were very kind and understanding, and described some similar challenges they struggle with.
These two emails had one unifying detail, they both extended an invitation to call them if I ever felt like talking about this stuff. I can pretty much guarantee that’s never going to happen, and I’ll tell you why. If I call someone, especially someone I don’t talk to very often (everyone except my wife and parents), and start spouting about being depressed and frustrated, I’m putting them on the spot. And I’m putting me on the spot too. Frankly, I don’t even know what I would say to them.
I imagine myself in their shoes, feeling awkward. Of course, I’d be willing and happy to listen and talk, but it’s hard to know what to say. I’d do my best to be a good person and a good friend. Frankly, I don’t think there’s a thing anyone could say that would really make me feel better. I simply don’t want to put anyone else in that awkward position.
In the end, it’s a lot harder talking to someone about this than it is writing it. When writing, I can go back and revise what I’m saying. I can edit, remove, leave out, add, and revise my thoughts. I can come back later and delete an entry if I feel it’s too personal or raw. In the end, I actually get what I need out of writing these entries, introspection. And, the people I care about and who care about me can read them and offer support (or awkward silences) at their leisure. Or the whole damned world can ignore it. It doesn’t matter, I get what I need.