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.