I’ve Lost My Voice and I’m Out of Sorts

I’ve Lost My Voice and I’m Out of Sorts

It has been difficult to rediscover my writing voice. I don’t know where it went. It must be buried beneath the sticky cobwebs in the far recesses of my brain. Instead what I’m left with is an uncomfortable fragment of it’s former self that feels stilted, incomplete and unnatural.

The things I’ve been posting don’t feel like me when I write them and it leaves me wondering if anyone else can tell. What I’ve been putting up has been more like a followed blueprint. The posts seem forced and feel false because I cannot seem to hang on to any depth with my thoughts. Or maybe I don’t have any worthwhile thoughts anymore. Is that possible? Can parts of your brain just die off from inactivity?

A week or so ago, it made me laugh when a friend told me that he wouldn’t have known there was anything different about me when we recently saw each other. On one hand, it’s great that to some people it doesn’t seem like there’s anything wrong – that I don’t “look crazy.” But on the other, there are days when I feel like I’m just dying inside and no one can hear me, see it or maybe they just don’t believe me.

Recently it feels like I’m doing an emotional backslide. Last week I had a few days where I went bananas with anxiety again. It’s been a while since that has happened and that is discouraging. I’m back in the place where I just know I’m never going to get better. It’s been such a long time now that I’ve felt so shitty. This is it for me and quite frankly, I don’t want it. I’m tired.

14 Replies to “I’ve Lost My Voice and I’m Out of Sorts”

  1. You’re being too hard on yourself. Try and take baby steps. You know why you “look” normal? Because people like us learn how to hide feelings and pretend very well. It’s easier than trying to explain the unexplainable. I’ve actually enjoyed your posts. Think of it more like easy chit-chat than digging deeper. You don’t always have to be super thought provoking, we love you anyway. Keep fighting, girlfriend. Don’t let the asshole voices win.

  2. I’ve never been much of a writer, but I do know that writing publically is an incredibly vulnerable endeavor. It sounds like you’re going through hell. Hope you can move out of it soon. Thanks for sharing your journey. ❤️❤️❤️

  3. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I asked you some questions about the Bonnie? Your “voice” perked up and had that familiar happy/quirky tone to it. Maybe it’s not “you” that needs rediscovering, but it’s likely you need to rediscover that passion. Living a “purposeful” live is one thing. Living a life with a passion for something truly defines you and that purpose. You know what that passion is, maybe you just put the keys in the wrong pocket.

  4. Thanks for this candid post. I have been struggling with writing–actually not writing–for some time now. It’s like I’ve lost my muse, and perhaps the passion. Every now and then I try to go through the motions to reignite the pilot light. I think I need a different focus, something new to explore and write about.

    Be well. Ride safe.
    Brent

  5. IT is hard to bare your soul into the public and expect someone to really understand what you are going through. Joy, amazement, fun is easily recognizable and easily shared. Your anxiety, confusion, and the state of in between is definitely part of you being genuine. Much appreciate for your bravery! We share your thoughts and emotions. You are a great writer.

  6. The posts certainly sound like you. I especially liked the line: “Even though I’m home now, I guess I’m not quite at home yet.” I think the depressed, anxious, desperate voice of yours is more real and I can relate to it easily. If you sounded like June Cleaver all the time it would be ridiculous. Try to ride out the waves of fear and panic like you did when you made it though the red light. You freaked out for a second then moved on.

  7. Judging from your blog audience, you have a lot of friends. Friends who care about you. Spend some time with them. In person, if possible. Live interactions can buoy us. I know, it’s worked for me. There’s something unknown but real about human connection. Grab it and let it lift you up.

  8. Depression is a disease. If your state of mind were a rash, or a fever, you would have sought help quite a while back. Get help now. You can thank us later. All of us who comment here care.

      1. Thank heavens!

        Know that each of us is pulling for you. Life is full of challenges. Michael (Conchscooter) Beattie came within a whisker of losing his life. Every day is a wicked physical battle for him as he claws his way back to normalcy. Mental and emotional wounds are in many ways more difficult to overcome because the causes are much more difficult to treat. You and Michael are heroes for baring all the wounds and struggles for all to see. You inspire all who read your blogs to face their challenges head on with strength and resilience. If words alone could help you, I would say them now and repeat until full remission. Therapy is a much better course. Keep up the fight!

  9. we can all get out of sorts at times…but don’t think you’ve lost your voice! Maybe it’s a different voice right now but it’s still your voice & I definitely enjoy your writings!

  10. If it’s any consolation to know you’re not the only one, I’ve been the same way for a while. I have two blogs and haven’t written in months. Not regularly in years. I keep telling myself I’m going to, but well, you get it. But know that you’re also an inspiration: I’m doing my best to get back in the writer’s seat.

  11. What they said. I do think your recent ride posts sound like you and they were definitely entertaining. Maybe they just don’t sound like you to you, right now. Hang in there girlfriend, this too shall pass.

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