First and foremost I should like to thank the Dotterel for his post along the same theme as mine.
At times, these days, I can feel cast adrift as some of you already know. This morning as I've bobbed along the blogspot oceon, ahoy! Someone else going through an identity crisis!!!
Like me, he writes about random things. He's called out to his readers for help whilst going through his existential crisis, but I can't do that, I can't even call upon myself. Thank goodness then, there are other boats bobbing along the blogging blue.
You know, you know I was going to stop this blog. My crisis has come not because I started but because I started again.
How can I tell you I write what I don't want to write about? Obviously I do write what I want to write about otherwise I wouldn't write it would I? It's not like someone is paying me to write what I write. So what's my flipping problem???
Housing was/is Stigmum's identity. We campaign!! Yeah, we do!! But unlike other campaigning blogs, my campaign, crikey, dare I say it, bores me. Doesn't bore stiggers, bores me. Bores me to suicidal thinking. I know, I shouldn't admit that, precisely as I'm about to go and ask an MP to get me a statutory instrument (whatever that is). Yeah, I am asking for it, not Stiggers. Go figure my crisis....
This morning, what do I write about? Rape. Rape for goodness sake. Rape doesn't bore me in quite the same way housing does but I've written about it alot recently and it's starting to hurt.
Me and stigs wanted to change subject but to what and how..
Well, what.. we knew.. my son.. my son's gone away today..but how to write it... don't know because that has been hurting all week in truth and today simply aches.
That's the problem I guess isn't it. Me and Stigmum, Stigmum and Me. We're not the same people and we are precisely the same people. I think I want something different to what she wants but I don't, I want the same thing. Only I never knew how difficult it could be to write about the things that are so, gosh, grim to contemplate.
My son's not grim to contemplate. I envy some of the bloggers who write about their children, put pictures up of them. I don't know what bars me writing about mine to a similar extent.
Maybe, maybe my problem is, that I'm not where Stigmum was anymore. She was in a dark, dark place and for the purpose of the blog she wanted me to write it down. Now she's in a lighter place, she can see around her a bit better.
She still wants me to write it down but I want to break free.
It's this new house, it must be. It's not a prison like the old one was or perhaps, ha ha, it's a luxurious one..anyway, blogging's not been the same since we moved here. The songs that have been coming to mind reflect that. Had I lost battle and ended up in a hostel I shudder to think what I'd be writing about now. You'd get songs though, lots.
Throw me a song now Stiggers. She won't though. Maybe she can't anymore. Music is her therapy and I don't need it, or can't need it.
I don't know
I don't know!
I really don't know but I guess that is totally normal for someone going through an identity crisis. There's no crisis after all, if you know, is there?
I may play some Doris!
Thank God in my real life I know who I am!
Remind me who am I stiggers?