Two Fold Post (A Mobile Blog)

This is the first fold of this journal passage: Depressive thoughts. Do you think that if you are sad, or if you feel overwhelmed by your life, that you should be allowed to keep that to yourself? I know that I have done that in the past. It can be a frightening undertaking to deal with one's emotions on your lonesome, but I've done it. Many times I've dealt with hard knocks discreetly and I think it was less than valorous, but it saved other people from looking at some of the more sad parts of my existence. Sometimes I still grapple with that type of pain, but I've learned to channel that into other more creative avenues. I'm no poet or songwriter, by any stretch of the imagination, but I can put my thoughts on paper or on the virtual page and let it go from my heart. Sometimes I wonder if it's really wise to throw the sentences on here, because I'm always wondering if people will think less of me. Then I laugh at myself and say, "Why am I being so damn insecure all the time?!" Maybe everything I'm thinking right now is complete drivel. Some people are lucky enough to be able to write whatever they'd like and not regret one sentence. I wish that I was that free with my compositions, because it wouldn't be such a heartache every time I'd sit down to the computer or flick the editor up on Android. I know a few people who have that ease and they aren't the best writers in the world honestly.

Now I come to the second fold of this journal entry: My feelings right now! I've been falling into this indifferent slump where I'm finding myself separate from the world in a way that I never felt possible. I kind of feel embarrassed to even write this, because I feel this ineptitude to explain my difficulties to anyone in the flesh. You can call me a blatant coward or you can, also, call me someone who is entirely too thrifty to hire an analyst. The thing is that I've sat in the inside therapy circle and I know the self-help psychobabble, which doesn't help my case one inch. There is a stigma attached to getting help, and yes some people do look at you in the Girl Interrupted or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest kind of way. You can tell people to fuck themselves if they carry prejudicial thoughts of you, because there isn't anything wrong for seeking treatment for depression. It's better than the alternative, I can assure you. You can't ridicule someone until you've travelled a mile in their moccasins. I used to think was a droll little saying, but it has a very real meaning. I digress to my earlier discussion, because lately I'm not sure if what I'm doing is the right thing. I feel like I'm walking on quicksand and I can't find my footing. My husband seems to feel very assured and I don't really grasp how that occurs. I see other people do the most ridiculous things and they make it. How does this happen? Am I too sad to make a risk? Right now, the best I can do is work hard at mt studies. It's the one part of life that I have distinct control over. Hopefully, I will have the answers to those questions one day. As it stands, I'm trying to do the best with what I'm given.

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