I stared at this screen for about twenty minutes yesterday before I decided that I was better off not blogging at all.
I’ve written recently about the conflict between my internal and external worlds. I’m way more comfortable sharing with people my external stuff. In fact, I share the fluffy external stuff as a coping mechanism. Because my head is somewhere else that I am most certainly not comfortable with anyone’s company, I will deflect questions and concerns.
I’m an introvert. That means that the wheels turn and the gears grind and all of this crazy stuff happens behind the scenes. While those gears are turning, I fold in on myself. I curl up. I protect my belly. If I have the luxury, and time and space, I will literally curl up under the covers for hours. If I don’t have that luxury, I will go through the motions of daily life. But I’ll be distracted, impatient, cranky, spaced-out. Brett described me the other day as “moving in slow motion”.
Most people aren’t comfortable being around someone in that slow-motion inner-world state. It’s not comfortable. The outside world is not meant to see it.
I’ve learned to deflect people by selling them stress that doesn’t stress me out. Yeah, we bought a car this weekend, and we are still figuring out the financial end of that. We had the kiddo this weekend, which means that I really didn’t have the necessary alone time or down time. I can talk about that stuff, because it’s real. It’s concrete, and it has absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on in my head.
To protect people around me from the chaos behind the curtain, I name the external things that are going on when they ask me what’s wrong. I do this so they won’t worry about me. I do it to try to get rid of them as quickly as possible. It’s not because I don’t love them. It’s because I desperately need to be left alone.
There’s nothing to see here. Move along.
It’s not just a Jedi mind trick. There’s really nothing to see. There’s really nothing to worry about.
The stuff that I’m working on is not bad. In fact, it’s all quite good. Every epiphany, every realization, every new understanding I’ve had in the past week has been amazing, strong and good. It’s brought me to a larger, more complete understanding of my landscape. I can already see how it will inform my writing. I see how it already informs my actions and attitudes.
When I come out the other side, it is likely that no one (except maybe Brett) will be able to see the subtle shifts that come about as a result of it. No one will care about what I’m working on, because the only person it matters to is me.
Having said that, it’s damned hard to blog. I have a bunch of light, fluffy ideas for posts, but I’m slogging around in slow-motion-land. I’m not willing to blog about the stuff I’m working on, and I’m too impatient to deal with the fluffy stuff right now. So bear with me, there’s a lot going on behind the curtain. (Pay no attention.)