Day 10

I read somewhere that it takes 66 days to form a new habit. In the interest of getting into the habit of blogging regularly, I plan to publish one post a day for the next 66 days, finishing up on October 13, 2020. Content-wise, each day's post can include anything that crosses my mind and that I hope will spark something in yours, whether poetry, prose, art, or the occasional rant. Here's to 66 days of finding something to say :)

For Day 10, a post about....well, me.

 

Today, I'm fulfilling one of my biggest small dreams: blogging in a coffee shop. If you've read enough trashy fanfiction and/or coffee shop AUs, you'll understand why I'm *slightly* thrilled at this prospect. Just...the vibes, dude. The uniquely coffee-shop vibes. Essence of Chill Productivity. Eau de Work. A focused attitude that could not be more unlike the "hustle" culture of relentless millennial productivity that is never more than a couple steps from burnout. A hum of quiet conversation and the smell of coffee beans in the background. Chill music (which I'm blocking out with headphones and my indie folk playlist, but, like, it's the thought that counts.)There's a mom playing board games and eating muffins with her two kids at a table just opposite me and I'm falling in love with all of them just a little more every time I covertly glance over. 

Of course, now that I'm in the perfect setting, I have nothing substantial to actually say. Life.

Fortunately, there is subject matter that I always carry with me (because I have no choice): Me. 

I've said comparatively little about myself the entire time I've had this blog. Part of that is because this blog isn't really about me: it's about the writing process, mostly, with a few other things thrown in. And a large part is because I don't want to give any creeps lurking on the internet the chance to track me down and kill me. Given that my readership consists of like two of you on a good day, I realize that this is somewhat presumptuous. Indulge me. 

But the most important reason for my lack of self-revelation (yes, even more so than watching out for hypothetical creeps) is, quite simply, that I hate self-revelation. 

I've perfected the art of answering "How are you?" with "Better now!" *looks significantly at the other person* or some other variation of an answer that deflects the focus back to the other person, especially when I'm clearly not okay but don't want to talk to them about it. Ironically, those situations would probably be the times I most need to reach out to someone. But why would I ever do that when pushing them away is so much easier?  

This, ladies and gents, is only the first stop in our exclusive tour of Clara's Vast and Terrible Museum of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms! Now just this way, folks, where next we'll view Clara's habit of reaching out to others to avoid thinking about her own issues...

Whew. Too much? Well, so am I. Heh.

I've always been more comfortable talking about what I've created or achieved, or what I'm thinking about or researching at any particular time, than what I'm feeling or how a situation is affecting me. That in large part stems from being uncomfortable with feeling any emotion too strongly. That in turn comes from feeling every emotion too strongly whenever I let myself feel them. I'm an empath (according to the uncontested wisdom of a myriad of internet quizzes and conversations with friends): I don't sympathize with people as much as I feel their pain like a physical ache in my chest. Which, frankly, is exhausting. So I limit my circle to as many people as I can handle interacting with on any given day in terms of residual emotions I will pick up without being able to help it, ideally with time to de-escalate and process after each interaction. And it ends up being a pretty small circle. Which can be lonely and frustrating and isolating. Aarrrghh...

I wouldn't have it any other way, though. The same hypersensitivity that can leave me completely drained after prolonged conversation with a particularly animated person allows me to write believable characters and situations by tapping into how the person made me feel and writing out of that discomfort. Knowing that emotional overload looms on the horizon has made me more intentional, choosing to spend time with people who enrich my life instead of those who "use up the air in the room", figuratively speaking. I'd like to think it's made me more perceptive, considerate, and an overall nicer person to be around. At least I hope so. Honestly, Covid-19 has been quite the godsend when it comes to socializing, at least for me. You mean I can have a constantly valid excuse not to see people? Hallelujah.

So there it is, the constant push-and-pull between needing people and not being able to stand them in large doses. Life is full of juxtapositions, and when we see someone who's mastered the art of tiptoeing the ragged edge of disaster between two extremes, we call them a well-adjusted human being.

This didn't end up being the light-hearted "all about me" post that I intended when I started writing, but I hope it's given you a glimpse (however brief and muddled)of the girl behind the keyboard. It's been a wild ride so far--thanks for sticking around this long.

Till tomorrow,

Clara