You know when you have a good friend and you get busy and you don’t call them in a while. You keep meaning to get in touch with them but something keeps coming up. You put it off to the point where all of a sudden you remember and have the time to call, but then you feel awkward because it’s been so long, so you put it off some more, and so on. Well, I’ve been doing that, here, with my journal off and on for quite some time now. Keep putting off, putting it off, not quite feeling like writing.

Then here I am, feeling awkward, and like I’m not sure how to talk to myself again. Feeling like when you’ve lots touch with a friend, that you don’t necessarily know how and if they’ve changed. Also a bit pissed off with myself for disconnecting. Even though other people read my journal, it’s very much like my conversations to myself. Where I connect with me on the deeper levels, and well, what you see here is what I’ve been doing with myself. A whole lot of NADA, nothing at all. Numbed out and disconnected from my feelings, empty thoughts. I know how to get in there and connect with me best. After all I a) am me, and b) have an MA in counselling psych. So can depressed little me get off her butt and do what needs to be done to have a decent and meaningfull conversation with herself, or am I going to sit here all night and spew meaningless drivel. Eugh…

I think I’m angry. I mean, that seems strange to me, though considering how I tried to do myself in a number of times back when the depression dog had its jaws gripped firmly around my throat, one would think I would recognize self directed anger. Though it all felt like escapism and fear at the time, but there’s more to it than that, I know. I just don’t want to stir all the shit up just to find that all I’ve created is shit soup, and that I’ll just have to wait till the stuff settles again in the depths of my psyche before I can see clearly again.

All of us have shit, and all of us have shit we’ll never be able to come completely clear of. Is it better kept under the carpet with the dust bunnies, or do you get it out and smear it around and hope to diminish the stink.

Well, you might be able to tell that I’ve been mostly in the frame of not wanting to stir and confront my stuff. Fear of sliding back into an emotional black hole, part of it. Though part of me now is wanting to explore a bit, check out the scene as it were. I’ve been thinking I need to do it in the venue which is most abstracted and safe for me, and I’m thinking that’s in imagery, art, and very constructed art. Art with a lot of built in structure. So I think I may focus some time doing photographs about my feelings. Maybe still erotic ones, we’ll see. It’s a little seed in my mind, and so I don’t know exactly what shape it’s going to take yet.

What I do know… speaking of shit… there’s plenty of rich fertalizer in my head for it to grow in.

Out of chaos, comes creation.

XO
Leila