I've written about some challenging times in my childhood lately and they've not been entirely uplifting, especially the one previous to this. And I was intending to try to show some humor in that one. Be like The Bloggess, you know? Tell about some horrible life story with humor? I don't want to be a downer; I want to be funny! I want to attract you, my readers, and start conversations and connections.
But it's not working yet. Maybe because I'm not in a good enough place yet (even tho' The Bloggess writes while from the depths of her depressions and anxiety episodes). As you can see, I admire her greatly. I want to be able to talk about my life in a way that attracts and entertains readers rather than depresses them.
I have a lot of those sorts of stories, but by now I should be able to view them differently. My therapist said that you cannot get away from a wound until it's healed, and many of these wounds should have been at least addressed and soothed by my parents. I know they did the best they could. I just wish that in some ways it had been better.
Usually with the practice (i.e., first) kid, you make your mistakes and you do things differently with the second. Well, with me, they treated me a lot like a little adult in some weird ways — expecting adult abilities and reactions and reasoning — and then treated my brother like an age-appropriate kid. I couldn't ask my mom about it when she was alive because she would do something that I found entirely out of character for her: she'd go into high-drama mode about what a horrible mother she had been for not doing XYZ and I'd have to leave off my issue and comforter her and tell her she was a great mom. Not. Useful. But effective in derailing me. I'm guessing she didn't like to say "I have no clue why."
I'll write some amusing stories later that will show the good side of my parents, I promise. And I'll try to find ways to write about my successes that don't emphasize how much I might have had to do them in the face of parental hurtfulness or simple negligence.
So stay with me. I will achieve humor if it's the last thing I do. But I'd rather it not be the last thing because then it would be kind of uselessly ironic.
Skye, you don't have to make us laugh. You just have to write what you need to write. I'd tell you not to apologize for posting whatever the heck you want, but (as you know) you could then say it right back to me. We're working on it, right? And anyway, blogland is deserted everywhere I go this week. I don't know where everybody is.
ReplyDeleteYeah, blogland is deserted. And you don't have to make me laugh, either. Although, I'm easy. I also love the bloggess. I don't know how she does it, either. Unless she just looks for the outrageous in every situation.
ReplyDeleteDance for me monkey!
ReplyDeleteNo you don't have to make us laugh. You write what you need to write.
ReplyDeleteI've been neglectful of the interwebs this week because, among other things, the toilet overflowed down the hall and through the little holes in the bathroom floor and into the basement and so I've been cleaning up shit. I have yet to develop any humor about that although with enough time I probably will.
Well thank you all (except you, Anonymous --- I'm through dancing for you, tsk!). I'm not so much worried about getting comments (although I do love them) as not depressing the hell out of my readers. Your comments today give me hope that I'm not doing that. I'm sure I'll get back to a better frame of mind. Soon, I hope!
ReplyDeleteKaren, I'd have difficulties seeing the humor in cleaning up shit until long after the task and the smell had faded. And then still be looking for the humor part. My sympathies!
Well, you're not depressing me. That's all I can say. :-)
ReplyDeleteI don't think humor is as important as honesty and I think it's the honesty that will keep us coming back to see how you are doing with your journey. : ]
ReplyDelete