Browsing through the fan photos brought up so many old emotions. I can’t really explain it, except to say that I’ve always felt “different” than most people. I’ve always disliked the mainstream ideal. I’ve always wanted something deeper of myself. Edgier. (Is that even a word?) I crave something deeper. For many years, finding something deeper was my only existence (hello goth wannabe). I was definitely “different” in my 20’s. But then real life happened… I got married, I had kids… I feel like that deeper meaning of who I am, how I want to feel, who I want to be – is completely gone now. I feel like it’s no longer attainable. I’m mainstream. I’m a mom with kids. I look it, I act it. I’m SO the personification of a stay-at-home-mom! Except I *try* to break it up with my own sense of uniqueness. I don’t think I prevail that much.

Feeling like I can be “different” is truly impossible now because my heart/soul is not only mine anymore. It belongs to my children. I love that I have kids, that I have a family. But it truly and permanently changes every essence of what you thought you once wanted to be. I feel such a loss of that part of me. I feel like I’m a shadow of who I was. I’m sure this is common with many parents. But how do you move past it? We all want to be great parents. We all want to make a lasting and positive impression on our offspring. But how do you maintain your sense of identity? How do you work that parental magic while still having your own life, still being that rebel that’s inside you? For me, it’s now an impossible dream. Husband works nights and weekends. I’m essentially a single mother most of the time. I have few friends in the area and my support system is far away. I have become what I feared the most. A shell of responsibility. I have a purpose. I fullfill my purpose. Everyday. I love my kids! I have fun with them everyday!. But outside of that. I’m just BLAH…

It has a lot to do with the happy pills. They work. But they don’t. It’s hard to explain. Am I more active? Yes. Am I less depressive? Yes. Do I argue less? Do I feel less angry? Absolutely! It definitely works in that regard. But maybe it’s a mask? A veneer of “okayness”. Because deep down, so far down. I believe it’s all still there. Yet on the outside, I’m a little bit numb. Just a “whatever” sort of feeling. A lot of indifference.

I’m going to change this domain someday. I need to. It’s not representative of who I am today. I’m better than I was before, but still falling short of who I should be. I need work, lots of work. I cannot share myself in this type of atmosphere until I feel whole. I’m not perfect. I probably never will be. I want to be! But have realized that I never will be. I realize that I like the imperfections too much. They’re comforting.

Imperfections are comforting. They make us feel ok. I’m ok.

Also, I feel lonely. Just gotta say it. I’m old. I shouldn’t feel these narcissistic, romantic, depressive feelings anymore. Still looking for that “something” to fill the emptiness though. So far, nothing’s working.

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But… I think I’m going to let this domain go and cancel my hosting.

First time in 10 years that I won’t own a domain. Even though I have a shoddy track record with posting and I’ve never exactly had a plethora of readers, it feels almost sad and empty to come to this. I’m letting a part of me go. The part that wants to write & share and needs to be validated by putting it on the internet. The part of me who enjoys torturing her perfectionist self with code and layouts.

I finally realize the fundamental problem. I let too many real life people know about this place. Too many family and friends visit here, waiting to see what I’ll have to say next. Not only is it a lot of pressure, it’s really confining. I cannot write about what I really want to write about. I can’t say the things I really want to say. I can’t let the real voice inside of me come out. It would disturb people too much to know how truly fucked up I am inside. No matter how cathartic it would be for me, my messed up jumble of thoughts would only serve to worry those who care about me and/or give ammunition to those who don’t.

Sure, I can post endearing stories about the crazy things my kids say or do. I can bitch about the painful inconveniences of life. And I can slice it all up with humor & sarcasm, to make it consumable for everyone. To make it cute. And light. And somewhat normal. But I’m not being true to myself.

This is not what I came here for.

The reason why I go for long periods without writing is because I cannot say what is REALLY going on in my head. And it takes so much time/effort to craft up something happy and cute (with pictures to boot!). Honestly, it’s too much work to share the side of me that I want you to see, pushing back the me who hides in the shadows.

When I started blogging 10 years ago, I never sought out to be popular or well read. My only desire was for the emotional release of putting my thoughts out into the universe and for the creative release of tinkering with webdesign. Cheap therapy if you will. I will admit that I also longed for empathy. For someone to read what I had to say and to understand. To relate even! However, feeling so stifled and self-censoring myself so as to not scare my loved ones…

where
is
the
therapy
in
that?

Maybe I will just start a blog on a free service like blogspot or wordpress. I can revel in the anonymity and purge myself of this growing snowball of silent thoughts.