My friend Steve thinks he’s funny.
Little did he know when he let that bit of wit loose on the world that I was totally planning on using writing group for therapy this evening. And I did. But I’ll get to that in a minute
Long time readers of I Will Dare, might remember the early aughts when I spent a lot of time blogging about how utterly, dramatically, and heartbreakingly lonely I was. Most of those posts are still a little too painful for me to read. Not just because I remember how sad and helpless I felts, but because it’s kind of annoys me now.
It’s only been in the past few years that I have realized loneliness is a choice. We all get lonesome sometimes, feel misunderstood and isolated. It’s the curse of human beings. But that true, deep in your bones loneliness I had, that’s like a lifestyle choice. Having made that choice for a lot of years, I don’t recommend it to anyone.
At some point, I woke up and decided that it’s okay to ask for help. To reach out to people when you’re feeling down or scared. To let people see you when you’re unsure.
Tonight the Inglorious Bastards, that’s my writing group, workshopped one of the first short stories I ever wrote. The earliest draft of it here on Enid is dated 31Jul04. The story is kind of weird and crazy, about a lonely girl who goes to the mall and loses her shit. It’s very representative of my state of mind around that time.
But tonight, before we even got to my story, I shared with the Bastards some of the junk that’s causing the anxiety. It’s not even that I was looking for advice or someone to tell me what I was doing was right, I just needed to say the words out loud, to tell someone that wasn’t related to me. It felt good. Kind of like I guess therapy might feel.
P.S. An update about last night. I am ashamed to admit that I’ve seen not one, but two episodes of Transformers and the channel has not changed from The Hub since I discovered it last night. Just ask my friend Trip Shakespeare who called this afternoon while I was watching Fraggle Rock.