Circling the dark with a blindfold.

Lost. And lost...and lost.

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I’m sitting on the edge of the tub, feet planted firmly on the inside, knees almost pressed into my breasts as I lean forward to watch the water rise. 

Ankle high. 

Every single part of me is heavy. 

Bent forward is the closest I can get to comfort these days. These shoulders carry too much. This head is filled with every thought I have held the last three years. 

Hugs I give myself used to provide calm, the slight sway this body gives to still itself in stirring moments used to provide safety. 

But not today. 

Not right now. 

Not as I watch water fill this tub.

Calf high now. 

I don’t even hear the water as it forcefully pushes itself off the surface. I don’t even feel the splatters of drops upon my cheek.

I am here, but I am not here.

I’m sitting here, five days into my social media break and I finally decided to delete both the Instagram and Facebook apps. I don’t trust myself to not get sucked in. In fact, I had gotten sucked in. I have a solid group chat with a few friends on IG that I am trying to keep up with. No, I HAVE to keep up with these special people because without them, I would break down. Further than I already have. Facebook, I have my page linked with my personal account and for some reason I thought I could just check my personal page and completely ignore my “Fidgets” page. Yeah, sure.

I couldn’t.

And I would see the notifications, the tags, the misinformation, the deliberate twisting of my words and positions, etc. The urge to get drawn in and explain and defend myself was getting stronger and stronger. I found myself scrolling but not reacting or commenting, because I am not supposed to be there, y’know? I would scroll for 15 to 20 minutes, fuming at what I read and saw. My feelings all over the place. So angry and frustrated that these feelings carried over into the good news that was shared on there.

I couldn’t bring myself to be happy for my friends. They are accomplishing so much. They are checking things off their “Dreams” list, and I haven’t found a way to push aside the anger I feel to smile for them. To sit in their joy.

I feel like a crap person. A really sucky friend. The person I don’t want to be, the person I was trying to not become and left social media in the first place, I find myself still becoming that person. All because I couldn’t properly let go of those spaces and give myself an appropriate break.

It has become quite clear to me that my presence on those platforms screw with my mental. A drain on my energy both Facebook and Instagram are. Many seasons of harm come from being there. Seasons of anger. Seasons of anxiousness. Seasons of comparison.

That last one is huge.

I made a list of all that I accomplished this year and shared it to my Facebook page. Things that I am proud of but for some reason I cannot allow myself to be…proud. I am always in opposition to another, competition with another. Even with my friends. Even with those who I love and adore. Then I question if I truly love them as much as I feel I do.

And I do…love them, that is.

But I am not loving them in the way they deserve. It’s not directed in the right way. The love is there, but it is sharing space with all that other noise that doesn’t belong there.

And so, short of completely deactivating my accounts, which I do NOT want to do, I have decided to delete the apps. This has to work. I find myself to not be in the best headspace right now to even be on there to lurk. If anything, that makes it worse. At least with posting at the frequency I was, I was distracted by writing and sharing and less with keeping up with what everyone else had going on and what they were saying.

But I have to find my happy. I have to find that person who was happy for everyone. That person who rooted for everyone and loved everything they loved and cheered them on when they succeeded. I want to say, “congratulations,” and mean it. I don’t want there to be a hint of anger behind the smiles I give them, I don’t want there to be the ghost of jealousy behind my eyes as I read their words celebrating their wins.

I am going to take this time to heal. Properly. In more ways than one. To grow into the person, I want to be. The person I know I can be. I want to spend more time with my family. I want to help my son be more open with his communication. I want to help my other son get a handle on his anxiety. I want to write more books. My GOSH, do I want to write more books! I don’t even have to publish them traditionally, but I know I have more in me than just “A Day with No Words.” Don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly proud of this story, but I know there’s more in me. There is so much I want to share with the world. This cannot be my only book. I shared my feelings about how this book, a picture book, started ugly for me. You can read that post here:

This book I wrote started ugly...

Feelings I explored a little with that post but hadn’t really dove deep as I needed to. This is a story I didn’t envision myself writing FIRST. I had a plan mapped out in my head how I wanted my “published author” journey to go and picture book was supposed to be my fourth or fifth published work. I don’t know why I felt I carried that much control, but I guess because I live in a world with such little control, I try to get it wherever I can. And fall deep into a state of disappointment when it doesn’t go the way I thought it should have. I wanted to write a children’s book, but not first. But it appeared that the only books publishers and editors reached out to me to write, was children’s books.

I don’t doubt why they felt as though this would be right up my alley. I don’t doubt my abilities. I don’t doubt that I am the perfect person to write a book for children. I think it is because I wanted to write something else. I honestly didn’t know if I could write a book for children which is why it was so lower on my list of accomplishments, but it still made the list because it is a book I definitely wanted to write.

I was confused as to why the “Book People” felt that I was the right person for a children’s book without actually considering me for writing something else, when it is clear from my posts and shares that I don’t really write for children? I write about children, my children, occasionally, but how did they know I would be good enough to write to children? I didn’t quite understand what it was about me that “Book People” thought, “nah, not an adult book, but a kid’s one for you.”

I don’t know how to approach those feelings, because I am incredibly happy about this book. It is so much a love note to my son who I love with everything in me. So, what exactly is wrong with me? I don’t actually know.

I think they knew something about me that I didn’t. That I just can’t see yet. I wrote a picture book that scared me to death to write, I am confused about the feelings I have surrounding it, but I want to write more children’s books. I am thoroughly excited about it. But the excitement is overrun by all these other heavy feelings they do nothing but weigh me down and cause me to doubt myself, quick to anger, and find myself in a state where I feel as though I am at competition with everyone…including those I hold near and dear.

The nerves I hold to even share this part of my heart. But I am so tired of keeping everything bottled up.

When I am happy, I don’t understand why it doesn’t last long. I don’t understand why I cannot smile for long. How come my laugh doesn’t come from deep within the pit of my belly like it used to? Why won’t my smile reach my cheeks? Joy these days doesn’t last long, and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why the happy I do feel from time to time… isn’t enough. Why don’t I feel satisfied? I feel happy, but I feel like something is…missing.

All these feelings, swirling around within me, fighting for dominance. One mind that doesn’t know how to manage them. I thought I had it under control, but I don’t. I just pushed them aside, but I cannot hold them back anymore. So, this is where I am. Circling the dark with a blindfold. Lost and lost and lost.

Two years ago. The last time I was truly happy. And I mean happy in a way that it came from within, not the happy I feel when it is attached to another, like my husband or my boys. I was happy, incredibly happy.

How do I get out? I don’t know, but first I have to properly disengage. I have to find a way to focus on me. My true happiness is there. It is within reach, I believe that. And when I reach a state that I can live with, I will return. And I cannot wait to share what that looks like for me. Just thinking about how bright my smile will be when I hit that point where I can confidently say, “I’m okay,” is bringing me peace. So, just letting go of two little apps that I have dominated my life is already working on me. And I am excited to see the person who comes out on the other side of this.

I hope y’all stick with me.