I’ve been avoiding my blog for months, but I think about it often. I felt that I had nothing interesting to say, that my words didn’t make a difference whether they were written or not. What difference does it make? Pretty depressing, right? But the thing is, I’m not depressed. I have my funks, sure, but don’t we all at some time or another. I’ve experienced depression and this isn’t it.
As I continued to work through my anxiety issues (which has been really great lately), and help my daughter with hers, I uncovered deeper feelings that I thought I had overcome years ago. However, the more I gave this my attention, the more I realized this is a serious problem. The old habits were resurfacing with vengeance, and I didn’t seem to have a handle on them like I thought. I started to be concerned that my thought patterns and behavior would have a great impact on my children. I didn’t want them negatively influenced by my bad habits.
So I think I’ve decided to start a memoir here, as I search inside myself to uncover why I think the way I do and how I can overcome it. I suppose it doesn’t matter who, if anyone, listens. My writing isn’t about anyone else, but my own expressions. I need to start being the one that is important to me, not looking for acceptance anywhere else. Besides, if I can’t accept myself, who else will?
So I invite those that are interested, along with me on this journey; and those that are not interested….that’s okay too.