Why Do I Write This?

It’s a question that plagues me every so often there’s this interplay of the private and the public that I have variously ascribed to too much reality tv at a formative age and to my brain being neurodiverse (ADHD, Autism, CPTSD and Anxiety with Depression at last count). Theres a real sense in my mind that I can’t properly process the events of my own life without writing them down. It’s the action of it as much as anything else. But there’s also the fact that this does go up for other people to read – other people seeing it makes it real. Which probably means if I ever get a job with a far higher income that I ought to get a regular talk therapist because honestly the fact that the boundaries of what comes out of my mouth are not the same as other peoples is a problem.

How much do I think about what comes up here? Not much, but I do edit, and sometimes it takes a while before entries actually make it up onto this blog. Still, I’m not sure that I’ve properly processed any given thing until it’s been written down, typed up and has made it out here. I need to read it as much as write it to understand it. That’s absolutely got to be about the neurodiversity because I don’t see many other people, no matter how much reality tv they imbibed in the nineties, doing the same.

I wonder if this is a way of anchoring myself? I seek them a lot, I find them in relationships fairly often, anchors I mean, the problem with finding anchors in relationships is that it really does assume the relationship is there to stay. But the blog is a very permanent part of my life, I may not be Samuel Pepys but I do find that this, maintained of course by the Jellicle Cat, keeps on keeping on. Maybe one day I will be Samuel Pepys, a useful record of an ordinary life for future historians. I’m not sure it is an entirely ordinary life but then I can never quite tell how much I think I’m special due to my own arrogance and how much I’m actually a little bit different.

Leave a Reply