I’ve had to use great control in the last couple of days to not come here and completely delete my whole site. Or go start a new site with a completely anonymous name and not tell a single soul about it, just for the sheer pleasure of getting to write “publicly” whatever I wanted. I still might do that.
But then I read a couple of my old blog posts and started to feel inspiration flitter back into me. {Why thank you Jenn . . . you’re most welcome Jenn}
I looked back in my comments history to when other bloggers linked to my posts from their own sites and the things they said about my site and I thought . . . (well, one was a bastard and threw me under the bus to make themselves look good to a bunch in a discussion board, so eff them) but I thought, maybe . . . maybe I’m not done here.
I’ve worked so hard over the years to even be capable of writing on a blog without hyperventilating and fainting, and yes I’m frustrated that I am still too scared to really *really* express myself . . . but I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.
And really (and this is truly in Jenn Fashion) before I go and do something dramatic like delete my whole site and all of the writing I’ve done here over the years, how about first I just go for it and go down in a flame of glory? What do I have to lose at this point? If I made a complete disaster of it, then <boom> delete the site.
Do you know that that is how I convinced myself to not try taking my life when I was a teenager? I was absolutely at wits end. It wasn’t typical spoiled teenager teen angst. There was some truly, truly shitty things going on in my life at the time, which I can now say with confidence and the perspective of someone who has been off gallivanting in adulthood for a good many years. I was in very dire circumstances and had been for awhile and I had absolutely nobody to turn to or who I could trust. I had no out, and I couldn’t stand the feeling in my body anymore.
I started to let go of trying to make it in this life. I let myself give up. I let go of the feeling of guilt, of feeling like a disappointment, of being a burden. And I started to settle into a feeling of deep peace as I contemplated the ways in which to *delete* my existence. It felt like such a relief, that feeling of relaxation in my body, that I was momentarily able to feel through and around my pain.
I remember vividly the very moment it happened. I was laying there in the dark in my bed and staring out my window, and I thought . . . “but wait . . . Jenn . . . you’re still a virgin. You don’t want to die before you get to try sex, I mean c’mon! You have to at least give that a try. THEN, if everything still feels this shitty, then you can kill yourself.”
That became my new game in life. Anytime I am in a situation that I have no control over and I start feeling like I want to die, I think of something that I haven’t tried yet that I would really like to give a go before I left this planet, and I make it my mission to do that thing before I check out. Because why not? What do I have to lose? If I were going to end it anyways, what does it matter if I took a risk or chance in doing something that I’m so scared of?
This is one of my secrets to how I find my will to live over and over again. I reach a point of being ready to let it all go . . . all of it . . . I’m willing to surrender absolutely everything in my life . . . but I pause long enough to feel out what I would miss most once I was on the other side or what I would be pissed about when I was back in soul form and no longer in a physical body and being able to run and laugh and play while on this Earth plane . . . and always . . . always something comes surging through and then with kiddy-like glee I go racing off to my next mission and challenge to take this life by the horns and ride it all the way through to the end.