I'm currently participating in Andrea Scher's Brave Blogging class, having decided that I needed a little creative oomph for this blog. And also because I've reached the point, as she has, where the stories I need to tell next are ones I can't easily tell because they're not entirely mine to tell, and this has frozen me into saying nothing.
I'm tired of saying nothing.
Be that as it may, refocusing on my blogging caused me to look at all the past blogs I've had, all of which are locked down and private now. I had two in particular that I loved: my original Blogspot blog Emotional Diet, and Life on the Riverside, which I started when I thought I was actually going to start writing fiction seriously again.
It seemed silly to have those two blogs, those two pieces of my life separate, so I did some Googling, and figured out how to import the Blogspot half of my life into the Wordpress half.
And now I'm re-reading all that content from the beginning, sometime in late 2005.
It's fascinating to me to read my entries in 2006, which led up to me starting my addiction recovery program on Boxing Day in 2006. And it's both fascinating and frightening to see how many of my posts are about the same things I'm currently and still tackling. It's as if the last 10 years have been nothing but me circling around these issues and getting precisely nowhere.
I'm not sure I have a point here, other than to note that I'm slowly being energized by my own history to address again for the umpteenth time all these things that I can never seem to conquer: creativity, play, exercise, self-doubt, and self-love.
This time I'm coming to all this old material and all these old issues with a greater understanding of how my Complex PTSD plays into it all, and I have such compassion for the me of the past who had almost no understanding of her PTSD.
My conclusion? I think therapy is in my future again, but I want to write more of my own story for my own consumption before I tackle that.
