Hello my loves,
I feel as though I’ve been really distant lately, and I don’t like it. I spoke about this in a blog post maybe over a year ago now, but I just feel as though I’m not as here as I’d like to be.
I’m still posting every week, but I don’t feel like I’m really talking or saying very much – part of that is due to the fact that I don’t feel like I have much to say, and the other part is due to me just being so busy I don’t even know where to begin.
This blog started out as a place for me to essentially share my thoughts and feelings with the world in the hopes that I’d find people who felt the same and would listen, and I did. Over time my mental health has gotten a lot better than it was when I originally started this blog and because of that, I feel like I can’t write in the same way I used to anymore. With sadness comes a lot of pain and grief, and I turned that into something beautiful and created words out of it. I used to write beautiful things, constantly, like the words were pouring out of me so fast I couldn’t even keep up. Nowadays, I’m not half as bad as what I once was – that’s a positive, of course, but it means I also can’t write those same things anymore. I was thinking about this the other day, about how bittersweet it was that in order to have one I had to sacrifice the other – feeling so sad and lonely that it swallowed me whole, but being able to create beautiful things out of it, or feeling happy and being able to create…nothing. I can’t write those same things anymore unless I’m in that same place, and these days I’m just…not. Sure, I still write the odd thing here and there every few months when I’m feeling that certain way, but it’s not a constant anymore, there’s no weekly dose of me pouring my heart out, and I miss that, but I don’t miss the sadness that comes with it.
I used to journal constantly, I would write and write and write, and then I started my blog and stopped journaling as much, because the things I wanted to say I would now just write into an electronic word document instead, and so my journal became less of a regular occurrence in my life, and I miss that too. But what the hell do I write? I’m okay. I still have bad days, I still have days where my anxiety takes up every part of my being and days where I wake up and my sadness is so heavy I can’t even get out of bed, but it’s not regular anymore. It’s not me anymore, but in losing that part of me which I of course am thankful for, I lost something else, too. Something I wish I hadn’t and something I wish I could get back but can’t. So I’m just here, posting but not really saying anything because I’m not feeling anything strong enough worth writing about. So what do I do?
I just feel a bit…absent. And I don’t like it. I’m also just…busy. I work a full time job, I also go to university full time (I know that makes no sense but long story), I read a lot and I also do Youtube now which, I might talk about later on down the line but, that also takes up a lot of my time. This combined with the things of general day to day life that take up time means that I can’t spend as much time as I’d like to writing what I want to write anymore, and I can’t write what I want to write anymore because I don’t feel like that anymore but then I also feel unfulfilled and it’s just a never ending cycle that I can’t seem to get out of, I feel like I’m always racing to catch up.
The title of this blog post isn’t true, I don’t miss being sad, I just miss all of the beautiful things that I was able to create with it. I feel like I just want to write more but I don’t know what to write about, I don’t feel whimsically sad anymore and I don’t have those wistful teenage emotions that I used to, which of course just comes with growing older but still, I don’t really know how to write in that same way as an almost 23 year old. Do I miss it? Of course I do. I miss it and I miss that time a lot, but nostalgia is a liar that makes everything seem better than it was, I know I’m looking at it through rose tinted glasses. I was going through hell at that time, I would never want to go back there, but I wish I could still have a smidgen of the spark that ignited so many of my most favoured writings back then. I wish I could still write like that now, and I can, of course, I’m doing it right as we speak, but it’s only because I’m essentially talking about something negative. I don’t want to only be able to write like that if I’m sad, I want to be able to write like that when I’m happy too. I guess it all just comes down to age and time – I’m growing and I’m older and I’m going through different phases in my life, I’m into different things and I like different things and it’s okay to change. I’m still the same of course, but also not. I feel like I’m trying to navigate this new time using the mould I had for myself when I was still a teenager and of course, that doesn’t work, but I don’t really know anything else. I was sad for so long it’s the only way I know how to do things. The thing is, I’ve never really been happy in order to write in that same way – writing in that way when I’m sad is the only thing I’ve ever known, so I don’t know how to turn the tables and do anything else. I can try, but it’s nowhere near the things I’d like to produce. My sad emotions outweigh my happy ones and that’s something I’ll always just have to deal with, but it also makes me sad that when I’m happy…I lose the part of myself that I always want to cling on to. Or maybe I’m just being nostalgic for 17 year old Chloe who felt so sad she didn’t know if she could still live in the world. Who knows. Only time will tell.
Only time, will tell.
All my love,