My Mind

*I had this posted a few days ago...then I unpublished it. Now I'm posting it again.*


Sometimes I find myself drifting away.
I am often so steeped in my thoughts, my past, my longing to be born in another era, or my memories that I find it hard to connect with people.
I lack desire to try and I get bored easily.
I don't mean to be like that, I just am.
At times I am alarmingly anti-social.
Brett wishes I would go out more, hang out with girls, but it's tough.

My head is a balloon trying to act normal from several feet above my body and my heart is somewhere in 1943.
Deep inside I wish I had the ability to be a social butterfly. As a teenager it was a lot easier for me.
For some reason as I get older I draw into myself more and more.

I mentioned things like this to a doctor a couple months ago and she recommended counseling.
And I immediately rejected that idea.
I have been to counseling many many times in my life and it has been helpful on occasion but I know that this is not a time in which I need therapy.
This is part social phobia (nothing a little xanax now and then won't cure) and part my artist heart that is terrified of complete happiness.

If it doesn't make sense to you, you wouldn't understand.
All artists that I know feel the same way.
And if you have ever read biographies of any artist (writers, painters, musicians, etc.) most if not all
are slightly comfortable with sadness. Even if they claim the contrary, they usually stay in situations which make them sad or cause some turmoil.

Sadness makes art.
Most of my art has come from pain.
I used to breathe writing...I had a journal and pen connected to me at all times. When I started dating Brett I stopped writing. I didn't mean to, I just had nothing to be sad about anymore.

Kind of weird to think about if you've never felt that way but if you have, you know what I'm talking about.
So I am no longer sad in my life but my heart has to balance my situational happiness with causing me to desire other things. Like being alive in the 40's, being pen pals with my grandma still (I still sit down to write her and am shocked to realize she's gone.), living in a different country, etc.

At times it's difficult to separate myself from what's real and what isn't.
I played alone a lot as a kid and my imagination has always been my greatest friend/enemy.
I am thankful for the desire to create and for the loneliness I feel and for every positive/negative thing that I feel because of who I am.
I wouldn't want to be any other way.

(and I am eternally grateful for Brett and Neely. They both make me laugh and love harder than I ever imagined...every single day.)

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