Even though I may trust someone, it remains a challenge for me to put depression into a verbal form that they (or even I) can understand. Many of you have heard me speak in real life. If I have no one to impress, my daily speech is on the fluffy and random side, generously sprinkled with "dudes" and "doods." I tend to backtrack and repeat myself as though I am backspacing and trying to form that phrase again, and sometimes my words come out accidentally slurred or with improper pronunciation, though whether that is due to my hearing or the fact that so much is going on in my head, I am not sure. It is not uncommon for me, when agitated for whatever reason, to have moments where I attempt to speak two or more words at once, and the resulting combination of syllables is usually quite hilarious. The tone of my voice is usually rather high-pitched. Is this medium, so prone to comedy and error, right for describing what is such a deep-seated problem? Writing, which obeys me so much more readily than my speech, removes all these concerns.
Over time, I have moved the record of my thoughts from the nether to paper to electronic documentation, and though they can be lost in any format, they seem to have the most success of surviving at abiona. The finalized post is usually on Livejournal, but most if not all continue to exist as fragments in all three spheres at once. The eventual narrowing to the digital realm in this matter is partially due to convenience, as my typing is far faster than my handwriting, and errors that I notice in the editing process, which would drive me crazy if left untouched, can be easily fixed or removed.
I never compose entries in the presence of others, so when I am in a mood and typing furiously, I am writing by myself, to myself, and for myself. I recognize that the potential audience that abiona is available to is enormous. I have found, however, that the actual audience is quite small, for even the number on my friends list is a generous estimate of who actually reads my terribly long rants.
I may be introverted, but I am not secretive. That my standard here is openness comes as no surprise to long-term readers of this journal, and that includes even my worst feelings. Filters only came into use in 2003, and it has only been recently that I have begun to Friends-Lock potentially troublesome work-related entries.
The silliest reason of all is I often find that when I vent such emotions on paper, it "ruins" the book in which I write. Once I am beyond the initial editing process for my online entries, the most recent is first and foremost, and each new post will take its place at the head of the line. I do not have to go back and read them again unless I want to. With a paper journal, the past remains in the front, and I always find myself leafing through those prior explosions of text. Rereading them often fills me with disgust, and sometimes even the happy notes irritate me with their juvenile tones. Here, I can document without too much risk of me either wasting an entire journal because I cannot bear to go back and touch it again, or of me tearing out and destroying what I have written.
Because I claim to be reasonable, I like to say that "the glass if half-full if someone has put something into it, and half-empty if someone has removed part of its contents." But say the problem were presented to me in this manner: "there is a container before you which is at half capacity. You have not seen anyone interact with it and there is no sign of how it got to be the way it is. What is its status?" I would, unfortunately, be most inclined to respond with a "half-empty."
It is time to distinguish between active patience and being passively stubborn.