I really need to write about {this thing} because it’s truly bothering me and I just don’t even know how to handle it.

Well, why not just write about it? After all, the writing of it alone is cathartic – sometimes just putting electric ink to electric paper, and all that…

But…I can’t. Not with this.

Why on earth not? TOO personal? It’s not like you’re thinking of writing about the first time you had sex or anything. So, really, what’s the big deal?

Ugh. I just can’t. And no, it’s nothing like that. It’s other drama, drama that’s not even my own, but because it’s part of my life, because it’s with someone IN my life, it’s something I’m not sure I should talk about.

Okay, calm down. WHAT exactly is the reason why you’re afraid to write about {this thing}?

(sigh)

The reason I’m not sure I should write about {this thing} is because if I do, if I unleash all of my thoughts here because I need SOMEWHERE to bring them and I can’t bring them to {the person} who’s the source of all of the drama, it’ll just hurt {the person} anyway. I don’t want to hurt {the person}, but I’m really, truly so {REDACTED} angry at {the person} that if I really tell them, or anyone, exactly how {REDACTED} {the person} really is, or how {REDACTED} angry I am with {the person} for letting things get to this point, it’ll probably drive an unremovable wedge between me and {this person}…and potentially others.

If the drama was something that only impacted me, then maybe that would be one thing, but there’s no way to talk about this openly, honestly, without there being collateral damage. I just can’t risk it.

So, instead, you’ll just bottle it up, or sparingly talk about it offline, and just assume that you’ll be fine? You’ll “self-medicate” with Ben & Jerry’s, and that’ll fix everything?

No, that won’t fix everything. And I’m trying not to self-medicate like that. I’m trying, really, not to self-medicate at all. But I’m stressed and I’m just tired after decades of…oh {REDACTED}, I should just stop altogether and not even go down this road at all.

Are you sure? Maybe you should talk to someone else? Is this the start of another depression spiral or something?

Oh dear lord, no – not at all. I know what that feels like. I know that “depression lies” and all that, but this isn’t that at all. This is something deeper, where the very fabric that you’re made of, the foundation on which you were built is just…well, finally falling apart to the point where the reality of a situation is just unavoidable, and yet you know that {the person} is still unlikely to avoid facing the reality in short order, because it’s too horrible to deal with. And THAT is what makes me so {REDACTED} angry. THAT is what is so upsetting, that after years, it’s still highly likely that no matter how much reality {the person} is finally willing to face, {the person} has too long a history of making the wrong choice and the drama will have its inevitable conclusion.

And that sucks.

And that’s why I’m angry.

And that’s why I can’t write about {this thing}. 

DO YOU GET IT NOW? DO YOU GET IT?

Yep. So, don’t write. Just move on and don’t write about {this thing}. Write like {this thing} never even happened. Write as though {the person} doesn’t even exist, or won’t make the wrong choice yet again.

In other words, write like I’m ignoring reality, too?

Yep.

OK.

{REDACTED}