I haven’t written much. I don’t know what I can say that I haven’t said before ad nauseam, and yet, I always forget I said it and continue to say it—at least, elsewhere. In my journals (dating back 21 years), in my doodles (dating back 30), in the two internet communities I participate in now.
My family is preparing to move house and I’m going through stuff. I’m going through my mementos and keepsakes and wondering, “Why am I keeping this?” I won’t Konmari my house, but I will Konmari my keepsakes. “What brings me joy?” Most of it I can’t even remember or remember why I have it. A few pieces are from people from whom I have parted bitterly.
What’s on paper that I have not already digitized, I’m scanning and then I’ll shred. I’ve been reading some of it. I really don’t need all that negativity in my life right now, but it’s important to keep it because it reminded me that I am still the same person, dealing with the same issues, doing the same things I’ve always done using the same coping mechanisms I’ve always used. I went to see a therapist yesterday. He gave me a new tool.
But sometimes … just sometimes … I say stuff on Reddit. Reddit asks interesting questions that make me want to say things I haven’t said before. I don’t really care to have my comments either downvoted or buried in a very long and popular thread to which I am late, so I’ll put them here and say something new for once.
Maybe I’ll even post some things I’ve written in the last 20 years.