#101

About 100 posts ago, on a night that looked a lot like this one, when I was as close to hopeless as I had ever been before, I sat wondering what had happened to get me to a place where I was more alone than I had ever been in my entire life.  If you’ve never felt hopeless before, you might not understand the thinking that accompanies that sort of loneliness.  It’s a feel that is hard to explain unless you’ve felt it before.  It’s a place that you can only visit when you feel isolated from every other place you’ve ever found comfort.  It’s a sadness that, sometimes, feels like it can only be alleviated by an end.  It’s a really scary and ugly place to be. 

While I was trapped in this infinite darkness, I remembered the words of a dear friend who had told me months before that I needed to find time to write because people responded to words and that I always seemed more at peace when I wrote.  Since I was pretty much out of options, I sat down at my kitchen table with a spiral bound notebook.  I started to write.  I started to let  it all out.  Amazingly, I didn’t just feel better, I felt like I was substantiating my experiences.  When I finally put the pen down, I knew that I needed to share those thoughts with the people I loved.  So, I went to blogspot and opened an account.  Internet blogging sites ask you a lot of questions.  What’s your username going to be?  What’s your password?  What are you going to call your blog?  They’re real fucking nosey.  But after I got done answering all their questions, I posted my first blog.  It was called “The Storm.”  Obviously, it was a metaphor for the emotional turmoil I had been drowning in.  Later, a doctor, described what I had been going through as an “anxious episode.”  Very well.  Anyway, I took that blog post and I forwarded it to my closest family members and a very few of my dearest friends.  In the email I composed to them, I tried to explain that I had been in an emotional state of disarray and unrest for many years and that the blog was going to be the medium I was going to use to make sense of all the noise and turbulence.  I was going to write to heal my soul and mend the relationships I had torn apart.  While those may seem like lofty ambitions for someone suffering such a dismal mental circumstances, it made me feel better to make that declaration.  And strangely enough, I never felt like I was setting myself up for failure.  Because I was honest with myself about what I needed:  I needed to survive. 

And survived, I have.  So far, anyway.  But even more than mere survival, I have found a voice.  In the 100 blog posts before this, I have found an outlet.  I have found solace.  I have found strength.  Even more surprising, I have found an alliance.  I have found feedback.  I have found friends.  Friends that I never dreamed I would have.  I have had people walk out of my life, just to have more amazing people walk into it.  I have had people applaud me for sharing my ideas.  I have had people criticize my lack of creativity.  I have been called out publically and privately when I say things that are controversial.  By the way, if you think what I say here is controversial, please visit the inside of my brain.  But anyway, I’ve gotten a lot from this blog.  I’ve also learned to appreciate what surrounds me because of the response I get when I write here. 

I remember the first time somebody shared a blog post on facebook. I remember the first time someone came to me and said “I don’t know if you know this, but other people think you are doing a great job.”  The same man told me “your blog is my dirty little secret.”  I remember the time a girlfriend told me “People think your blog is really negative.  But I get where you are coming from.”  I remember all the times my friends have said “when I read your blog, I read it in your voice!” I remember the first “YES!”  And the first “NO WAY!”  And the first “you are WRONG!”  I remember all of that.  I remember the times that people said “I love your writing.”  And I remember getting calls from people who could recognize my cries for help when nobody else could, myself included. 

So, yes.  This blog has helped me be everything I hoped for.  It has even been more.  Sometimes, though,  I wonder if I am staying focused on what Inner Peas meant when I was mentally searching for the right title for my blog.  I did spend at least four minutes in a staring contest with Blogspot, with all its judgment and demanding questions.  Then when I almost gave up, I thought Inner Peas.  I knew that I was never going to have any inner peace, but I knew I could find some peas.  And that’s where I am now.  At peas.  Or maybe just with peas.  Either way, the peas are my own. 

-Inner Peas