Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Killing the Blues

     One of the things I struggle with when I sit down to type up one of these posts is whether or not I should censor myself, just a bit. Actually, no. That's not really accurate. I think what I really struggle with is the decision of whether or not I should run my words through a rose-colored filter, or just unleash them. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, I'm sure you can easily answer the question of which way I normally turn. In fact, I'm having a hard time thinking of a time in which I deliberately dulled the edges of whatever it was I was writing about, good or bad.

     When I'm happy about something, I'm pretty clear about it. Likewise, whenever something's bugging me, or my husband and I have had a bad time at the emergency room, I'm not subtle about that, either. That's kind of been my thing since I started foisting my opinions upon the general populace, that I wanted to be as honest as possible about what my husband and I experience over the course of our many adventures (and misadventures) with Marfan syndrome. I know that horse is dead as Moses, but I keep circling back around to it because, as much as I hate to admit it, it's definitely caused me to doubt myself.

     My endeavor here has been to create a place where people can discuss, or even just read about, every part of what it's like living with a chronic illness occupying space in your house and your heart. I've been at this for a little more than three years now, and I still haven't found someplace where I feel okay giving voice to the uglier thoughts that circle; it's just not done in polite society. Well, it's not done in certain forms, I guess. If you put those thoughts in front of music, it's more likely to be palatable, but generally speaking, people have enough going on in their lives that they tend to look for things that make them forget the rent's due and they don't have the money to cover the check.

     I get that, I really do. There's enough bad shit in most people's personal worlds that they don't need any more added to it. At the same time, though...I think there's a huge difference between bitching about things of little-to-no-consequence because that's become your habit, and trying to be honest about something that's a huge part of your world. Take note of that last bit - honest, not negative. Yeah, those two things can run in a very close parallel, but I promise, it is never my intention to complain just for the sake of hearing my own head rattle.

     This whole subject matter is something that occupies a constant space in my brain, and frankly, that's valuable real estate that I could be using for something else, so I'm trying to evict it. I saw a video posted on an acquaintance's Facebook page that kind of addressed this issue and though it was clearly meant to be humorous, it made a hell of a lot of sense. I'm always afraid that I'm too much of a Debby Downer when I post here, that because I don't always write about how my husband's had a GREAT DAY!!! and we're FEELING STRONG!!! that people are going to walk away. It's why I give more thought than I should to what posts have preceded whichever one I'm currently working on - have I been too angry/sad/frustrated lately? Maybe I should temper that. Shouldn't I? Or should I just go with what's going on today?

     I keep a plain black journal with me all the time for just that reason. Whenever I have an idea I'd like to expound on here, or see something that's relevant, or have an interesting discussion with my husband about something Marfan-related, I write it down for future blogging use. There have been times when that's come in handy, because it gives me something to draw from if I feel like I need a happier, lighter topic than the one I'm actually wrestling with. I don't know that that's the most honest way to go about this, but it's gotten me this far.

     Maybe what could free up my thinking would be to stop looking at things as depressing or sad, and view them as simply honest. I mean, that's the word I use more than any other when trying to describe why I'm doing this, so why is it so hard to really accept it? Self-consciousness, frankly. Everybody has their areas of insecurity and that's apparently one of mine. Sigh. As my husband would say, dammitsomuch - I guess there's more work to be done in the self-improvement/confidence arena, and that is usually an uphill battle. Probably better to start sooner rather than later, yeah?

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