Message in a (Cyber) Bottle
This will be my first post in close to five years. In the last five years, I have been through a divorce, changed jobs, sold my house, watched Brett Favre retire, then un-retire, then retire, then un-retire, and then get humiliated in his final season and retire once again. I have lived in an apartment now longer than I have ever lived in any of my homes that I once owned. If you think my last five years have been challenging, or even close to depressing, I would say that you're close to being correct.
My counselor encouraged me to start journaling...to try and be more transparent with myself and with others. I tried writing my thoughts down on paper and even typing them, but my mind tends to try and create stories from my experiences and then launches itself into the past to try and connect my current trials to something I've experienced at an earlier stage in my life. I seem to be irreparably hooked to my past. I'm sure there's a word for it or a psychological theory to describe someone like me...someone who remembers nearly everything and sees it clearly and still feels it unmistakably, even though, lately, some of those memories have dissolved into just feelings or hazy, sepia toned frames that click through like a film projector. Regardless of how worn those memories have become, they're still there, like scar tissue underneath skin. Not visible, but effective in hindering the healing process, no less.
This blog is my compromise. I want to tell to stories. I want the hope of someone reading them at some point in time, somewhere in the world. I want to give them a context of my life...snapshots of things that are real and that were real. If you read this, you probably stumbled upon it by accident. If you're someone who used to read it and we've lost touch over the years, I hope that you're well and I'm glad that I'm sharing part of my life with you again.
My counselor encouraged me to start journaling...to try and be more transparent with myself and with others. I tried writing my thoughts down on paper and even typing them, but my mind tends to try and create stories from my experiences and then launches itself into the past to try and connect my current trials to something I've experienced at an earlier stage in my life. I seem to be irreparably hooked to my past. I'm sure there's a word for it or a psychological theory to describe someone like me...someone who remembers nearly everything and sees it clearly and still feels it unmistakably, even though, lately, some of those memories have dissolved into just feelings or hazy, sepia toned frames that click through like a film projector. Regardless of how worn those memories have become, they're still there, like scar tissue underneath skin. Not visible, but effective in hindering the healing process, no less.
This blog is my compromise. I want to tell to stories. I want the hope of someone reading them at some point in time, somewhere in the world. I want to give them a context of my life...snapshots of things that are real and that were real. If you read this, you probably stumbled upon it by accident. If you're someone who used to read it and we've lost touch over the years, I hope that you're well and I'm glad that I'm sharing part of my life with you again.
posted by Gabe at 12:11 PM
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