Because I don't already have enough on my plate, I have decided I need stop being a pussy and get onboard with some self promotion. To this end, and to finally cave into pressure to hook into social media, I have started a new, public FaceBook page just to link my writing, and maybe expand my readership a bit. I do know I have readers all over the world, not many, but it is titillating to think that somewhere in Russia, or Malaysia, or China, someone is reading my postings and thinking, "Who the hell is this batshit crazy American?" I have enjoyed my public self-flagellation, flaying myself open for the world to see, even if it only a handful of people. Honestly, I have wished to know more about who my readers are, I feel that since I share most of my deepest, darkest secrets that there must be some small bit of kinship. I do have some friends who read my ramblings and give me near instant feedback. One friend said, once upon a time, "It is like looking in a mirror." My original intent for starting my blog was to improve my writing skills. It is said over and over that aspiring writers should keep a journal. Well, I'm not much of one for "journaling" so to speak, but I realized that there is something of the exhibitionist in me. Some quirk of my personality that makes it easier for me to write regular entries if I know that someone, somewhere is reading them.
What started as a simple exercise quickly became an outlet for long pent up emotions, and secrets I kept even from myself. It soon became cathartic for me to pry open my skull, let the words pour out in a senseless morass, and stir them about as I tried to make sense of it all. Writing is one thing that kept me sane during some of my darkest hours. It was often my lifeline to reality as I stumbled about in the darkness of the abyss. It was where I came to self-analyze, self-flagellate, and sort through the chaos that was wreaking havoc on my health and happiness. It wasn't long before writing became far more than mere self expression when I realized that, despite what I was going through, I wasn't alone in these feelings of despair. Oddly, I came to feel almost like a Pied Piper of sorts, playing a tune that was so familiar to so many, letting others understand that they were not alone in their fight against demons. I know I am not the only one who has found themselves on the floor, curled into a fetal position, crying with silent sobs wracking their body, wondering if the tears would ever stop.
Depression is a curious place, it lies and tells us that we are alone, and we will never leave. It is a lie. We are not alone, and depression does not have to be a permanent residence. I am convinced though, that the demons that followed me up from the abyss are mine to keep forever. I am oddly comfortable with this, and have even seemed to build a shaky truce with my demons. We understand each other, and I think I might feel lonely and abandoned if they were to disappear. They are part of who I am, they made me who I am.
Once again, I am rambling. I can't help it, I am tired, the day was long, I swam hard, abused my legs with a series of barbaric strength training exercises, and topped it all off with a massive, though ridiculously healthy, dinner. Brain and Body are starting to fail me now as the hour grows late. Damn, rambling, again. My pint in all of this was to share the link to my new FaceBook page, with the hopes that readers will pop in and maybe get a little bit better acquainted. It is still bare bones, but it is a start: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lunatic-Fringe/692656714104591