I was talking to a girlfriend the other day about life, the future and anxiety. I haven’t been totally forthcoming with my issues and keep a lot of it inside. This seems to put me in a precarious situation with a fine balance between resentment and depression towards many things.
She was trying to help me find a way to manage my anxiety
and we got on the topic of writing. Not necessarily writing for the sake of
public viewing but writing in general. She asked me what I would choose to do
with my work life if money weren’t an issue. She said she would write because
she loves to write. I love to write also.
I often feel like all I do is complain. Its something
ingrained deep within my soul. I remember my father giving a eulogy at my Nana’s
(his mother’s) funeral. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard (and the only
time I’ve EVER seen my dad cry). He talked about how Nana, no matter what life
dealt her, never complained. He talked about their long arduous and hellish boat trip from England to North America. He spoke about the hard financial struggles of eking out a life in a new country. He spoke about how hard he has tried to adopt that
non-complaining way of living. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much my dad is
like his mother. How he was able to be such a non-complainer in a world that is
cruel. Raising my two siblings and myself was probably a feat of massive proportions. From that day forward I decided I want to be like my dad and my Nana. I
don’t want to be one of those people that complains all the time and so I set
out on a mission. Even though I am cynically pessimistic. Kind of gives a whole new meaning to "Life's Mission". That was about 8 years ago. I have failed time and time again
but inside the thoughts are always there.
I stopped blogging awhile back (or at least not very often)
because I felt like I was complaining too much. I have 32
unpublished blog posts (which will remain unpublished). I try to tell stories
without the bitching but when I read them back all I see is complaining hiding
behind humour. People tell me my perception is wrong and it’s not like that at
all. I let them humour me but I know underneath it all I am bitching.
I thought long and hard about my friends’ desire to write
for the sake of writing. My whole life, I’ve always adored writing about my
experiences and adventures. Even when I tell stories face to face my primary
goal is to express the feelings from those moments, not so much the plot. I
really love to write whether I’m good at it or not.
Last night I had a dream about reading old journals and
diaries of which I haven’t kept for many, MANY years.
So, in an effort to try and re-organize my life and send it
in a different – unknown – direction, I am going to test out the writing
waters. Bear with me because I haven’t got a clue what the end goal is. This
may be nothing to do with diabetes, a rule I always vowed to follow for this
blog. What I do know is that I need some help with my debilitating anxiety
issues. I need help finding a direction in life with work and athletics. I don’t
know where I’m going but something needs to change. Even if nobody reads it or
it seems like I’m being one of those annoying bloggers. I still don’t know how
I feel about “BLOGGING” in general.
Also, along the "out of my comfort zone" lines, here is a selfie. Why is this selfie so important? Because this is the picture I sent to the same friend with the note that I hate selfies but for her, I'd make an exception. I was already out on my Saturday ride. She was nervous about an event that morning so I gave her a nerdy "thumbs up".