I’ve been having a real rough time of it this November. Becoming more and more reclusive, not leaving my room or doing almost anything I enjoy. My schoolwork has gone undone, and now I’m combatting the constant feeling of futility as I battle to get late papers done and handed in, though I know the late marks will decimate my grades regardless. A big part of that struggle is shame. Shame that I’ll have to spend another semester in university, shame that even with meds and being in a better living situation, I can’t get what I need to get done, done, and about 36 other colourful flavours of shame I won’t get into.
One of my favorite writers I’ve been introduced to lately is Brene Brown. A shame and vulnerability researcher, she talks about the power that shame is given when we choose to be silent about it. I talked to a friend last night about what I’d been feeling, and while it wasn’t enough to spur me to work, I felt considerably better. This whole month (and longer) I’ve been totally silent about it, not even writing or daring to say my thoughts out loud. The whole time, the sensation of paralysis from all these dark thoughts felt like a python wrapped around me. Every cycle of rumination was like those coils getting tighter and tighter, to where I could barely move enough to leave my house, let alone attend to my responsibilities and own well-being. When I spoke to my friend over Facebook, I felt that binding loosen a little, so I wanted to write about it a little on here, both for myself, and so that maybe someone who feels something similar can read this and know that they’re not alone.
There’s this odd precipice with this blog, where I always enjoy writing in it and putting up something new, but when I write frequently enough, it’s like a switch gets flipped in my brain, and instead of an enjoyable activity, putting up a new post becomes an obligation. The fear of expectation comes into it. “People are expecting new content!” it says. I imagine (somewhat narcissistically) the followers of my posts impatiently tapping their toes as my page goes un-updated for days, weeks, even months. The whole experience is enough to keep me from writing in here for (surprise, surprise) days, weeks, even months. I feel like it’s the same with my school work. I get a little behind, maybe have a day where I’m feeling out of it, and immediately see the professors judging me for not handing things in or attending class, my mom being disappointed in my inability to apply myself… and the shame python starts to squeeze the life out of me one self-destructive thought at a time.
I don’t know if this will actually help, but I know for my own sanity I have to hit that pressure release valve on my psyche and get this out there. Have any of you guys had the same or similar feelings? What did you do?