I promised myself while I was going through the worst of my COVID experience that I would start blogging again. I would stop being afraid to share my genuine self in words and do what my fingers itch to do, and write. I have been terrified to write on my blog these days, to be vulnerable. With cancel culture and the intense political division and the chaos and the anger and the fear and the grief that seems to be everywhere, my fear of being rejected overwhelmed me. What if I said something wrong? What if someone commented and started a discussion? What if I sounded dumb or insensitive or rude? What if that person never spoke to me again?
My anxiety has been so high these last few months, I didn’t think I could take any sort of negative criticism. I know to have healthy relationships and healthy dialogue, you need to be open to hearing and expressing those kinds of thoughts. But still! It’s different to have those kinds of responses with a screen. A screen that has become your other half.
And thus I stopped writing. I’ve just been focusing on my teaching credential and trying to keep things simple. Taking baths. Reading books. Walking. Video calls. Take out. Community service. Things might have continued on like this, but then I got COVID.
It will be a funny story soon how I got it and the experience, one day it will be a play called “Number 63”, but I am not ready to share it just yet.
I do want to share that when I was having all my panic attacks, and couldn’t stop the thoughts that said terrible things were going to happen to me, I found the best way was to write down memories from my past. I would go into as much detail as possible remembering our graduation trip to Marbella and biking around Lake Bled with my family. I remembered our European road trip for my Grandma’s 80th birthday. I remembered St Andrews and all our silly traditions, and my Bat Mitzvah. I became so thankful for all the beautiful people that have come into my life and the precious moments.
I – shockingly – even began to appreciate Calabasas. For almost my whole life I had been trying to run away from that city, and now my heart overflowed with love for it.
I remembered how blogging had helped me with my anxiety in the past, and promised to blog again. I would stop the voices in my head that worried, “What will people say about me? Do they think I’m selfish? Crazy?”. Shut up and express yourself.
Blogging has always helped me make sense of the world, and right now, the world makes zero sense to me.
I know so much change needs to happen and some very critical dialogues need to take place.
I know that reading Biden’s tweets calms me down and Trump’s tweets riled me up.
I know that I don’t watch the News and what does reach me is stuff on the Patch, Twitter, or algorithms sent to my phone.
I know I am uninformed, I am disconnected, I am detached.
I know I am overwhelmed, I am a hot mess, I am hairy.
Speaking of hairy – this guy I was dating that I haven’t messaged in a while – I messaged him, and he said, “Hi Sammy? What’s Up? Did you shave?” I have yet to decide if I will respond or not. SMH!
Back to what I was saying:
What do I do about these feelings?
I have decided that I am going to try to use social media as my support system again. I’m gonna try to write a post once a week. Maybe more! I apologize in advance if shit gets weird or hard or upsetting. Please DM me and let me know your thoughts and feelings. I am writing because I need support, not because I want to hear my own voice!
I wish I could say more positive things about my situation. I have felt so much love during this scary time, and feel hopeful.
We can do this! We can come together. We can create a life and build a more beautiful and equitable society together. I promise.
Sending peace and positivity to wherever you are.