December 22, 2017

604 Days Later

By Daniel

Write something.

There’s been no lack of time, opportunity, or content. And yet this is feeling like an immense struggle. I’m having to really pull the words out from myself.

My dad used to read this, it was the way he followed along with what was going on in my life. Learning that he was still following along was first concerning, then comforting.

Dad died on June 22nd, and I suspect that brought the readership numbers back down to zero.

Is it strange to have the wind taken out of your sails thus? That the writing might seem less valuable for lack of an audience? Who am I writing for, here?

I never really thought about an answer to that question.

It’s always been that I just write, and then I’ve written and then it’s over.

You know what, that’s not true. Diana reads this when I update it. In fact, the times that the blog has gone the longest without updates coincides with the absolute lack of people that might give a shit to read it. So that’s interesting. The content doesn’t really change with the readership, but the lack of readership makes this feel like a waste of time.

This is getting a bit easier.

I launched three websites today, and I’ll probably talk about that some other time. But the net result as it relates to this place as a writing space is that I can use it to work through problems and generally heal. The fragrance-related stuff is going to another blog. The sysadmin stuff is going to another blog. The DDR stuff is going to another blog. The diary stuff is…here. And it’s perhaps the sensible way to go about it.

Or it’ll be a huge mistake when some future employer (or, hell, my current employer) Googles me and reads through the struggles.

Know what? I started seeing a therapist after Dad died. I contemplated suicide and scared the hell out of myself and decided that it was time to ask for help. I said I would, 653 days ago. The first session…

Well, it’s worth it’s own article.

In looking back to see exactly when I acknowledged I was going to get help, I realize just how much I was writing when I was working for Environment.

I haven’t updated the blog since I lost my job. Well, until today. I don’t know if there’s anyone out there at this point. I don’t know if this has been a major cliffhanger.

The house is wonderful. I haven’t updated the blog since we moved in.

Anyway, I said that the diary is here. While I’ve always had a bunch of ideas and things that I think are worth working on, I’ve really come to think that there needs to be a more open discussion on mental health. The embarrassed silence that people struggle with needn’t be. Everybody hurts, and everybody needs a little help sometimes.

If I can do some piece, some tiny thing that helps normalize those discussions, make them a source for growth and not shame, then I’ll consider myself worthy of the compliments I’ve been given.

That can’t start without interrupting the silence.

I was gonna call this Regularly Scheduled Interruptions but it turns out I used that title…604 days ago.