There are a lot of reasons for blogging. You can blog to share your life happenings with family and friends, you can blog to illuminate your quirky or trendy style, you can blog to make people laugh, to make friends, to make a political statement, etc. There are as many reasons for blogging as there are bloggers navigating their way through this fantasy-land we call the internet. For awhile now I’ve sort of asked myself why it is I blog. I don’t make any money (in fact, quite the opposite, I’ve spent a great deal of money). I don’t have any real goal for my blog, or a set niche (although I’ve been reminded time after time how important it is to have one…oops). Day after day I’ve found myself returning to this same spot and sputtering out the most intimate details of my daily life. From falling out of love, to feelings on loneliness and inadequacy, to social anxiety, to watching my life legitimately fall to pieces before my eyes, to butterflies and new beginnings…it’s all been documented here.
This little hobby of mine has become so utterly addicting. After a weekend free from blogging (and generally free from writing) I find myself craving a quiet corner, an iced mocha and a solid two or three hours to write. I blog for the release.
I swear I need a lot of therapy. I say that not because I’m super effed up (which I am but that’s another topic for another day) but because I can literally feel my body aching when I haven’t allowed myself time to just word vom my thoughts onto paper (or keyboard). Until I allow myself time to detach from the world and let my thoughts and feelings take life via language I’m just restless.
Does living in your own mind ever just exhaust you? Because sometimes the combination of over-thinking, anxiety, to-do lists, relationship issues, etc, etc. just makes me want to turn off my brain so I can have literally thirty seconds to just breathe (which I think is also a solid indication I should be consuming less coffee). Being too caught up in my own head is enough to make me cry, one perfectly rational thought leads to another and then all of a sudden I’m lying on the bathroom floor bawling because I’ve decided I’ve completely let myself down and my life is ruined. We can honestly be our own worst enemies sometimes.
Yet to sit down and write, it adds reason to all the crazy. I sometimes wonder about the eventual consequences and repercussions of publicizing so much of my soul so publicly. The risk is so high, there’s a high probability that at some point or another my words will come back to haunt me. I will offend someone or the wrong person will stumble across this page, something as little as the guy I like getting a hold of my blog URL really freaks me out (because yes, I’m dumb enough to tell him I have a blog and then not tell him how to find it). I trust wonderful you (whoever you are) to peek into the depths of my heart every day in ways I don’t trust some of my closest friends, my family and the acquaintances I encounter on a day to day basis.
Oh the risk is real. The consequences are terrifying, exhilarating but I think that’s the caveat that accompanies anything that quiets your screaming soul. To find that sort of release requires a trade-off and at the end of the day, I think the trade-off’s worth it.
How do you “quiet” your mind? Do you have creative energy that needs a “release”? Or am I just an overemotional weirdo (like usual)?