Saturday, 12 April 2014

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry to the people that I've already let down on here. Don't rely on me. I'm a social nightmare. I'll say I'll do something (and I'll mean it) but then I'll freak out and I'll talk myself out of it. I can't help it. Cut me some slack, I'm getting help.

I've been looking over some old photographs. It's crazy what looking backwards does to you, pictures are amazing. Not just fancy pictures taken with a lens the length of an elephants trunk and a price just as long - I mean any old photo, a photo taken on the first ever camera phone. My old blurry pictures from Uni - taken 4 years ago are just a wake up call to the spunky, witty, popular me. The me (without the popular bit) that I am inside. The passion for writing.... when I'm sat here with the fire raging inside me and my head just telling me what to type and me going for it for hours and it all coming together magically. Me not even having to try. The funny me - the me with all the fun ideas. Back when I used to write comedy scripts. That's who I am inside. I miss her so much. Where did she go? I need her.

I know I love Chris. And I was still her when I met him. I was her for a long, long time afterwards. The thrill and the excitement of becoming an 'adopted' Geordie kept the fire burning.

Did it all go wrong when I had Charlie? Did I get PND? I don't know. Probably a bit. But things started before that. Me and Chris rowed. We were moved to Newcastle and we got bored. We were going nowhere. The fire started to die down - why... why did that happen?? I have to put my finger on why. Then I can start to help myself.

Yes, I'm getting therapy. And the reason I've not put up blog updates about it is because it's not really helping. The talking bit is fun - fun?! It's a bit sad that I think it's fun. Maybe it's what is fun to me at the moment. I suppose I think it's fun because it feels good, talking to somebody else, even if they are being paid to "care"... but I feel fake. I feel like I can't truly be me with this woman. Or Chris. Or anyone. Something is blocking it. Am I scared to be me? Am I scared of rejection? Am I scared that if I say what I really want then something really bad will happen?

I don't want to be fake. I don't want to be this normal, boring, fakey, house-wifey type person who cooks and cleans and looks after her child and blogs about the standard. It's not me.

How can I get her back.... maybe now I've realised that I need to, I'll be able to figure out a way.

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