I’ve been reading a blog lately, and I think it’s bad for me.
It is a blog of someone I went to high school with–someone who is going through some very real things right now. He doesn’t know that I read his blog, and I probably won’t ever tell him because I feel like I’m invading his privacy in a way. Plus I’m going to try to stop.
He uses his blog as a journal. As therapy. Which is great! But it’s also very real. Uncut. Raw. Dramatic, but also serious. And just downright depressing. But I read it and I relate so. Much. Not with the cutting or the psych ward or the anorexia. No, he has very real problems that I am not about to sit here and pretend like I understand. But I relate to the social anxiety and the self loathing and the depressing thoughts and the overwhelming feeling like you’re drowning and you don’t know whether to stay or go and all you want is someone you can turn to.
And often I find myself inspired to vent my own feelings after reading posts from him. I just finished reading about his awful birthday this year, and I almost made a blog post about my own. About how I cried so much on my birthday this year. How I walked in the rain because it was so fitting somehow. And how I told everyone who asked that “yeah my birthday was good! Uneventful, but good.”
And then the next day I got blackout drunk.
But I began thinking about this blog post and I realized the turn that my blog has taken. I went from writing “Motivational Mondays” at 8 in the morning to “Late Night Thoughts” at 3am.
But I don’t want that. I have my journal for that. I want this blog to be something different. My latest post was a “thank you for 300” and I sincerely mean that. I like sharing cool things with people on the internet. I like it when people follow me and like my posts and comment and relate. And while I can still use is as this therapy and this creative outlet, I don’t want it to turn into this mess of depression.
Here’s the bottom line. Whenever my blog thrives and is filled with happy posts, I do okay. Not every minute of every day, but it generally means that I’m in a happy period of my life. But when I wallow in self pity, things go bad.
So I’m making a change. I’m going to make a conscious effort to notice the good in my life. I’m even thinking of taking part in #100HappyDays. It’s not about ignoring the bad days, it’s about finding the the singular positive moments in each day.
And, hopefully soon enough, it won’t even seem like I’m looking.