This is a story about safeguards…
There is an oft-quoted statistic about 93% of communication being non-verbal. When I write, you cannot hear my tone of voice and you cannot see my body language or facial expressions. When I write, I do so in advance of your reaction, so I am unable to tell whether what I am saying is being well received or whether it is causing people to recoil in horror and disgust.
It’s damn hard being live-wired into the fabric of the internet. It’s not easy using public writing as a coping mechanism.
I get home and my anxiety levels are sky-high having spent a whole day in an office trying to act normal and keep my mouth shut. I get home and I’ve usually spent the bulk of the day trapped in my own skull with my thoughts bouncing around inside my head. I get home and I’m suddenly very alone, but I’m in an environment where I can somewhat relax and be myself. The net result is an outpouring of jumbled thoughts and feelings, which get typed and published onto this website, for the entire world to see.
Because of the incredible disruption of moving house and things which have greatly disturbed my brain chemistry, I have an ever-increasing amount to say, in a desperate attempt to occupy my mind and bring some structure to my life. My routines are sacrosanct to me but I have little control in my work environment, where I must conform to bland office mediocrity and keep my head below the parapet, so my writing is the part of my routine where I blow off some steam. Unfortunately, there’s a great deal of pressure to be released.
I’m aware that my daily word count has been creeping up little by little, to the point where I’m easily blasting out 1,500 or 2,000 words at a sitting. Nobody wants to read that much. Instead of writing short sweet little blog posts, I churn out disturbing half-formed thoughts from the depths of my subconscious, which reveal a side of me that nobody ever directly acknowledges in themselves, let alone writes about at length.
Instead of finding a dark corner of the internet to lurk in and turning my insecurities into hate-filled invective directed at a common chosen target, replete with the jargon of a particular online community, instead I have developed a reflex where if I think it, I remember it and I write it down. My daily writing reflects all the unspeakable things which any person might think but never say. I say the things because of my increasing isolation.
I’m lucky enough to have a great number of friends online who I could chat to, but I feel as though I’m poisoned and that I must cut off the limb which the venomous snake bit. I feel as though I have to purge myself of toxicity. I feel as though I must try to vent all the terrible things I’m feeling, in order to feel better.
I write out of sheer desperation.
I doesn’t seem to matter how much I write – it doesn’t make things better, but sometimes it makes things worse. I write because it’s a well-established habit and pattern of behaviour. I write because it helps me to get my thoughts in order. I write because it helps me feel in control of my life. I write because I’m proud that I’m creating something. I write because it gets a reaction. I write because it gives me a connection to people. I write because people respond. Sometimes, however, people don’t respond and the lack of reaction is distressing.
I push very hard. I push myself. I push others.
I’m not sure if I’m pushing people away, but I certainly stopped engaging properly with people.
I feel so overwhelmed with the enormity of the task of getting my life back in good order – financially for example – that I’ve whittled away everything which doesn’t fit to a very austere and minimalistic routine. I eat, sleep, work and write. Most other people have their families, friends, kids, pets and other such things in their lives, but my life has been reduced to a crude cartoon.
I reached 700 words and I promised myself I wouldn’t write any more.
Please, tell me if you’re still listening; still reading.
Tags: #writing #socialmedia #friends
Comments
57 responses to “Making A Fool Of Myself”
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Still here and still reading. Have been away with limited signal so have missed a couple of posts but will catch up. I hope you’re ok xx
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I’m listening. Some days I don’t read Twitter at all – or only skim. Perhaps, like me, others are just preoccupied.
You are an excellent writer, Nick. Keep going!
👍👍👍
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You should write a book Nick, your writing flows so freely and I never lose interest. Don’t ever change, you are perfectly fine as you are and i find you express yourself wonderfully as I’m sure a lot of others do too.
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Still reading, always will, even if it’s shocking to us both.
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Always reading Nick
Always listening
😊
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Just read it. You’re a mess. But I’m there with you… so much. Writing #mood would be accurate but dumb. “Parapet.”
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Just read it. You’re a mess. But I’m there with you… so much. Writing #mood would be accurate but dumb. “Parapet” is a word I need to use today.
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New reader here.
Really enjoying your writing and thoughts.
Keep going! 👍
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Of course we’re still here Nick. I can’t promise I read everything because my concentration levels aren’t always up to much, but you write so eloquently and articulately – it’s not as if you’re churning out drivel! More importantly, if it helps you, you MUST write x
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Always here. Always read your blog. What you write so often strikes a chord with me. I would love to give you a longer response but not in a good place right now. Keep on blogging xx
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I live with someone that feels just like you. Tough road you are on. Some days I get it, some days I don’t. I’m not going to lie but I always listen.
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Hi Nick, I’m here as always👍, reading 99% of your blog posts.
Sorry, that I was a bit quiet.
I had one week vacation😊
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Still here, for what it’s worth 🙂
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I’m still here Nick. You’re not making a fool of yourself. Keep writing. Xx
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Always here! Still reading and listening. ❤️
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Still reading, still listening. Like others, sometimes I’m in skimming mode!
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I’ve read several of your posts, but not responded. You write very well. Let it flow. We read it and identify with it more than you know.
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I like reading your log ….. it makes me feel like I’m not alone in the same dam boat lol… I love ur new house … U should write a book …. it’s really hard because people don’t understand our mind… it’s frustrating I get U… if writing helps u do it!!
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Keep writing. People like you because you are honest.
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I’m here Nick. U can always talk to me. U have my email, or u can DM me xx
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Still reading and listening. I’ve been so caught up in our shitty politics here that I’ve forgotten to check out some of the good people.
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