Well, first off I feel kind of bad that I haven't posted since my first one, but it's summer of my freshman year and I've been a bit busy. Now that that's off my chest-
I've been thinking a lot about restarting. A fresh page. Part of being a teenager means that I can change my mind in a split second for no reason at all. So, my mindset never stays the same for very long. I re-arrange my room after a while, re-organize a bookshelf I just sorted through a couple weeks ago, carefully re-write the "About Me" section of an online profile. Things like that.
Although, I've noticed sometimes I can get so comfortable with something being a certain way, thinking of it changing bothers me. A keepsake from 3rd grade hung on the wall, the layout of one of my favorite websites, etc. Once it's changed, I don't accept it. I file it away in my mind and think I'll deal with it later. If I see the changed thing, I remember the way it used to be and want it back. After a while though, I force myyself to get used to it and don't even remember when it changed.
But, sometimes it can be a bit more complicated than a poster on the wall. Sometimes it involves feelings rather than looks. Things I've trusted for the majority of my life get turned upside down, things I've said with utter confidence start to see hesitation creep in. A shocking revelation sends my mind reeling. People I thought I knew do something so out of the ordinary I wonder if I even knew the person at all.
When these things happen, I shut down. On the outside, I pretend it didn't even happen, keep believing in how they were. If asked, "How are you,? I know a lot has been going on." After a couple seconds I reply "I'm fine." because I don't know how else to explain. It's not like I can just say "I can't accept what's happened, change it back, make me forget it, it's hurting me for it to be this way" If asked questions about the person/issue/thing it involved, I make excuses not to talk about it, or "I'll tell you later" even though I have no intention what-so-ever of doing so. Focusing on it makes me hurt, shoving it away makes me guilty. I see others around me adapt so well it sends me into a panic wondering why I haven't.
After a while, I get mad. I throw myself into a rage over something stupid like dropping my books in the middle of the hallway while people are passing by. I cry. I get mad that I'm crying and cry even harder. I shove away helping hands because I'm afraid of what they'll think of me when they know why I'm in such a fragile state. Things that shouldn't be a big deal are suddenly the biggest offence.When I'm alone I silently scream at the person/ people involved and ask them why they did this to me. I'm a mess.
"Talking helps." is responded with, "I don't really have much to talk about", "I'm worried about you" with "Why? You shouldn't be, there's nothing wrong" As I bite the inside of my cheek and think guiltily of the thing that's bothering me.
Agonizingly slowly, I start to go out of my way to do things to distract myself. Joining clubs, learning about something I've always wondered about, starting projects that may be interesting . And, agonizingly slowly, it works. I forget about what happened and move on. But as soon as I see/think about something that reminds me of the incident, I'm thrown back into a rage. The tears come back, the silent accusations even meaner. At the end of my rage, when my tears start to stop flowing, my fists come unclenched, I realize that without that reminder, I wouldn't have thought of it.
I say to myself, "It's done/they're gone, I can't change it. It's just how it is." And I feel a little better. Reguardless of the fact that someone might have said this before, it helps more that I say it myself, without being told.
I look at the fresh page and welcome the restart, accept that I may take a while to adapt, may have my own way to deal with it, but it's done.
A song that I listened to while I wrote this: Lessons Learned by Carrie Underwood
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Here Goes...
Okay, after a few attempts, here's my introduction.
There's that one thing. The thing that when someone asks, "Do you have a favorite hobby?" You automatically think of. It may not be just one thing, it might be a few, or maybe even many. If someone were to ask me, "Katelyn, what do you like to do?" I may have several different answers.But the hobby I seek the most approval for is writing.
In the course of my fledgling writing career, I've discovered I don't usually enjoy re-reading things I've written in the past. I've written down ideas in notebooks, passages in journals, short stories in binders...Nearly every time I re-read a sentence or two that I think is even remotely unlikeable, I get rid of it. Dispose of every shred of evidence it ever existed.Whole sections of writing. I tear them up and am grateful no one was ever forced to read them. I've even tried online journals as well. They didn't work, because they come with the nifty button labeled "delete".
On the few occasions I do manage to show someone something I've written, I get an uneasy feeling. I start to wonder, What if they don't like it?or Did I fix that one bit? or What if that part doesn't make sense to them? Etc...
I've gotten really positive feedback from my writing in the past few years, and have become a little more comfortable in allowing other human beings to look at my stories or articles.
One of the reasons I wanted to start a blog was to get more feedback on my style of writing. To get encouragement, criticism (everyone needs it once in a while) and a few new ideas. In writing a blog, people can read it and post comments on it, even if I've ever met them before. I'm going to lean on the idea that people will read it and people will like it, even if people is exchanged for person...I can reply to "What's your favorite hobby?" with;
"Writing, want to see my blog?"
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