Vitriol

vit·ri·ol Pronunciation (vtr-l, -l)
n.
1.
a. See sulfuric acid.
b. Any of various sulfates of metals, such as ferrous sulfate, zinc sulfate, or copper sulfate.
2. Bitterly abusive feeling or expression.
tr.v. vit·ri·oled or vit·ri·olled, vit·ri·ol·ing or vit·ri·ol·ling, vit·ri·ols
To expose or subject to vitriol.

I am reminded of Jesus' teaching, "Those who live by the sword, die by the sword."

My mental well being has been tied up in writing for a very long time. I have never been able to express myself in person 1/10th as well as I've been able to do it in writing. Writing is slow and cautious. It allows one to be expressive, and guarded, diplomatic, and poignant, righteous, and wise. I have used writing not only as an escape from a world that has not always been kind to me, but also as therapy. My long standing journal at home, More Later, has some of my best writing and will hopefully never be seen by the light of day, because in there I feel free to write whatever I feel like, to say things that I would never say, to contemplate things I would never contemplate, without fear of recrimination or retribution (unless I should become President and my journal gets subpoenaed ;) In the very first entry into my journal, where I was explaining its purpose to me, I wrote a little disclaimer which I repeat, more or less, here:

Do not believe a word I write. The thoughts and feelings expressed in this journal represent the thoughts and feelings of me at this particular moment and may or may not include any semblance of reality.

I knew then, as I know now, that sometimes therapy requires you to write things that you would never say in order to get out in the open things that you would never admit to yourself in the light of day - a drawing of poison, so to speak. These things are not meant to be taken as gospel truth, but merely as an expression of what you are thinking at that moment. I come across these vitriolic statements in my journal from past years and I think to myself, "Man, what the heck was going on in my mind back then?"

This is all my way of saying that I am sorry. Yesterday's blog post was vitriol at its worst. It expressed a dark side of me - crazy thoughts, feelings, expressions - that I would most of the time never entertain. Sometimes we think things for a fleeting moment and then throw them into the back of our mind and when we are at our brain addled best, these poisons come spewing forth. Well, that was what happened. All the time I was writing that post yesterday, I had this inner dialogue in my head that kept saying things like, "What the hell are you talking about? You've GOT to be kidding me! Oh, shut up already!" But I think Sue said it best when she said, "For a guy who claims to not care about his weight, you wrote nearly 500 words about not caring!" Yeah. Right. Exactly. It was a classic written mental breakdown.

The fact is, I didn't care. I still don't. (Okay, maybe a little ;) This particular vitriol had nothing really to do with what I was writing about. It was a cumulation of a lot of little things - but the biggest part of that is anxiety and fear about the future. And once again, this is a problem based on writing.

If you know any writers, then you know that we are all just a lot of bit eccentric in the way we see the world - we're bi-polar when it comes to the literary world. Our entire world revolves around the way we see it and write about it. The ability to do this and do this well makes the world seem sunnier, brighter, more fun to live in. The inability to do this makes the world seem cloudier, darker, and a terrible place to dwell. I have had three long periods of writers block in my life. Each one was a pure hell to me. Each one lasted more than a year. During these times my life was a shambles. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't act normal. I sort of just existed until my view of the world would clear enough for me to see the forest through the trees (and write about it). The last time I went into a long drought was right after Karen and I broke up. For most people, breaking up is hard to do. For me, it was utter hell. I honestly don't remember most of the next year and a half - except Andy constantly nagging me about the last chapter of Ultimate II, but that's another story ;)

I've been trying to finish the Novel now for almost a year. It has not been an easy year and everytime I hit a rough patch, I start to get worried that I'm losing my ability to write. The longer that rough patch goes, the more anxiety builds up. At points, it becomes unbearable. I usually end up breaking down in tears and really tearing into myself in my journal. These are not nice passages of sunny prose, but dark thoughts and terrible self doubts.

Clearly, this is what has happened. I offer this not as a means of glossing over what I wrote yesterday, but as a way of explanation. I can't entirely set aside the thoughts posted in that blog - so I won't erase them. I did have those thoughts. But I do not own them. They are merely trash from a cluttered mind spat out in the heat of a panic attack.

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming...

P.S. A big thank you to Sue who did not back off but instead skewered me with the truth. I liked your response - especially numbers 1, 3, 5, and 7. I didn't know you could read my mind ;)