I feel really silly right now because after what I thought was a successful launch of a ‘new and improved’ website, which I proudly discussed in my previous post, I have decided to remove it altogether. Why? I guess it has a lot to do with what one considers ‘success’. I honestly thought I had formulated something that would generate interest and appeal to the masses. Alas, I was wrong. After several weeks ‘on the air’, I managed to drum up a total of 56 views. In fact, that was the highest number on my stats list. The other number was a big fat ‘0’. Yep, zero likes and zero subscribers. I have to tell you, that doesn’t make the writer part of me feel terribly proud, it just makes me feel terrible. I’ve been asking myself over and over, “Where did I go wrong?”
To that question, I’ve come up with several answers. I’ll share a few…
- I’ve lost my touch.
- I’m not funny anymore.
- People would rather read about honest, often emotionally gut-wrenching experiences instead of poor attempts at humor.
- More people identify with mental illness than I’d care to admit.
- As much as I’d like to emulate Erma Bombeck, I just can’t cut the mustard.
Of course, there were a lot more, dozens more, answers (or excuses) I came up with to explain away the lack of interest in my new site. At the end of the day, however, as much it pains me to admit it, I guess rather than trying to start anew and ‘file away’ the parts of my life that I’d rather leave behind, I have to accept them. Because even though I tried to branch off and write about topics which were more light-hearted and easier to digest, I struggled. Talking about mental illness is easy because it’s part of my past, present, and what I strongly foresee as my future. Talking about humor is do-able but it’s more difficult to access, unless I’m at the doctor’s office. For some reason, whenever I see my family physician, I pull out all the stops, especially when he brings up my annual mammogram.
I wish life were easier and I wish I didn’t continuously think about how lonely I am or how I cannot seem to connect with people. I moved across several states thinking that it would ‘fix’ so many things I had issues with and the only thing that really changed was the view. I still feel sad and disconnected but now when I open the front door, instead of seeing a giant hospital across the street, I see the neighbor’s house and the glut of ‘stuff’ they have stored in their triple car garage. I’ve tried to ‘put myself out there’ in order to find people who I can relate to and maybe eventually consider as friends but it’s been like trying to give a cat a bath. If you’ve never tried that before, it’s not natural and the cat is none too pleased about it. I’ve gone to several Meetup events and each time I do, I leave feeling even more alone and disconnected. What the hell?! I show up with what I consider to be reasonable expectations and never fail to be disappointed.
It all just feels like a big waste of time. Actually, I think that’s going to be my motto from here on out. I would really like to be more positive and uplifting but life has been a serious struggle. I was doing really well until I wasn’t, and I cannot seem to find the motivation or wherewithal any longer to keep trying to get ‘better’. Therapy helped somewhat but I discontinued my sessions once money became an issue. What it all boiled down to was that after receiving yet another bill for services rendered (bringing my overall charges in excess of $800), I requested an itemized statement. I needed to see for myself what monies were charged and what monies were paid over the handful of months I’d gone in for counseling. After a lot of back and forth with my therapist and the billing department, things got undeniably weird and awkward.
Months later, once everything finally got sorted out, I returned for one more session but when the hour was up, instead of what she ordinarily did (penciling me into her black schedule book for my next session), she said, “We’ll keep in touch.” That was over two months ago. I haven’t heard from her since. It felt a lot like back-in-the-day when I was still swimming in the dating pool. Oftentimes, at the end of the date, even when it was clear there would never be a second or a third, I’d get the, “I’ll call you.” And we’d both know full well that that call was never going to happen but it was kinder than, “You suck and I don’t ever want to see you again!” I suspect that’s what happened with my therapist. She didn’t want to officially break up with me so she did the next best thing, if you could call it that. Sigh.
Suffice to say, I’ve decided to resuscitate My Entire Family Is Insane. I was going to let it dry up and drift away but for my own selfish reasons, I’m going to keep it around. Since I no longer have a therapist to vent all my frustrations to, it’s the next best thing. As much as I’d like to impart my dark thoughts upon my husband, they don’t resonate with him. He’s designed very differently and doesn’t really understand the mental gymnastics my brain goes through with all the highs and lows and ups and downs. I guess that’s a good thing because one of us needs to be of sound mind. Anyway, I need to call it a night. I’m grateful for those of you who have stuck around and will hopefully continue to do so. I wish all the best to you and yours.
