Today I am thinking about who I am writing for

What a pompous ass I have been.

The reason I started blogging was an attempt on my part to figure out some order in the chaos brought on by my depression. With 43+ years of practice concealing it, saying I have depression is a new idea. And then working on the sneaky ways it invents itself so that I will go along with its cockamamie ideas without going down the rabbit hole is exhausting.

I must always be on guard.

Depression sneaks into even the smallest of thoughts and can turn a simple decision into a monumental task. “Did I take out the trash?” That’s a very straightforward question. But I can find myself answering it yes, no, or sort of, all inside of three seconds.

Who does that?

The question is simple on the surface. But then depression gets a hold of it and I overthink it. Yes, I took out the trash, or most of the trash, well I didn’t get the recycling or the stuff for the burn barrel, so maybe it is no. But I did take out some, so maybe it is sort of?

If I can’t say what I did, how can anyone else know?

Which leads me right back to who and what I am writing. In my defense, (and why I need to defend myself is another story) there are many situations and tools I have worked out through my writing. Going back over some of my earlier blog posts, I can see that I am making progress.

My progress is borne out by my therapist, Peer advocate, and others.

Knowing this should give me some satisfaction. But until I believe it, until I embrace it, until I can feel that I am making progress, it is not real to me. I flash back to the adage; you can lead a horse to water…

Recently, I have been hung up on the number of page views my blog is getting.

nar·cis·sist närsəsəst/ noun

1. a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves.
2. “narcissists who think the world revolves around them”

This is narcissistic, shallow, and not what I set out to achieve. I use the excuse that I can maybe help others if they can see someone else is going through the same or a similar issue in their recovery. But then I can get very shallow and think of my rankings, not my own self-care and personal recovery.

Is this depression once again derailing my plans or am I still this little kid, screaming for attention?

We all need to understand our value and to be at home with ourselves. This has been very, very hard for me to do. I am a master of finding the good in others, I can champion them, give them tools to make better decisions, and share little insights that will often get them to “see the light.”

When it comes to accepting myself, flaws, strengths and all, I am no where near a good relationship with myself. I have some things I have accepted and enjoy, such as “I love getting up in the morning, because I learn something new every day.” And I plan to live to be 100, because “I am too competitive, and there is so much I still want to do.”

“Danger Will Robinson.”

The robot on Lost in Space is alerting me. It sees that depression is after me and I had better figure out what is going on. Depression is helping my mind wrap around measuring, comparing, drawing conclusions about my writing. This is not where I intended to go when I started the blog.

I am writing to be a better ME.

With depression’s help, I am once again straying from my path. I am once again one step closer to the abyss, that legendary, mythical, and to me, very familiar rabbit hole. It turns out I am on a first name basis with the rabbit hole. In fact, there is talk that they will be naming a section of the rabbit hole in my honor, since I have been such an ardent supporter over the past 43 years.

This means my lifetime achievement award will be etched in the side of a rabbit hole, the spot I pass every time as I descend into the depths of depression.

What the hell? Is this what I am going to be remembered for?

The guy that almost got there. The guy who actually got there and then turned back. The guy who, once there, decided that there were other things more important than basking in the glow of his own success and threw it in the dumpster so he could get very near to his next success before casting it into the pit and not celebrating his own achievements.

Boy, it is easy to feel sorry for yourself, isn’t it?

I tell myself I do not “should on myself,” (READ I promise not to should on myself today) but then I write all this which is one big pity party. I wallow in my own sadness over what could have been and negate and diminish what has been. While I know everyone does this from time to time, I am turning it into a new artform.

Not wanting to make a rash decision, I will see if I cannot ask better questions about my motives for writing and my decisions about what to write about. This exercise has been fruitful in the past. READ: Am I Asking The Right Questions?

Tomorrow, I have an appointment with my therapist.

I will discus my concerns with him, too. He always helps me see different ways to think about my issues and has been a big help in getting me this far.

What’s on your mind today?