I struggle with emotion always have, I don’t’ know how to be emotional. I’m not a great crier, I didn’t when the girls were born and held it together when Dad died. I cried after and went through a period of shedding a few tears each day with little things setting me off.
However public shows of emotion and affection are and have always been a big no no. I don’t hold hands with Mrs.L in public and there’s certainly no kissing and I just couldn’t be a dogger.
I’m a little of dead inside really and the Prozac has finished me off, the emotions are felt but there’s no way they’re going to appear.
I don’t ‘do’ inspirational quotes I’m just not built that way. The sorts of things people post on Facebook drive me insane, not a long journey there these days, I know.
On Twitter I mute or unfollow those who persist in tweeting or retweeting this kind of crap - “a true relationship is two imperfect people that refuse to give up on each other. The world needs more of that” I know some of you will be ‘moved’ by that but I’m not, my world really doesn’t need that.
Maybe I just don’t have a soul, it has been said by someone close to me. Maybe it’s because I’m not religious or spiritual, I can’t tell you why this doesn’t emote me but it doesn’t.
So it’s always been slightly hypocritical in my mind when I tweet #KeepOnKeepingOn
I stole the phrase (obviously) from one of my favourite Bob Dylan songs, Tangled Up In Blue. The line goes “the only thing I knew how to do was to keep on keepin’ on like a bird that flew”
To me it sums up life, it’s just what we all have to do. What ever happens you face it, deal with it and move on to the next. Our autopilot takes over.
My problem is along the way I’ve forgotten how to, my autopilot is malfunctioning; I still love the sentiment but can’t follow it through.
At the moment I’m scared of the future probably because of mistakes in the past, making me unable to function in the present – there’s inspiration for you, it came to me after a bottle of red.
To me Twitter is about having fun, playing out my miserable persona to the fullest, ‘meeting’ like-minded people, being informed and also the much maligned and overused word – banter.
I’ve shared a joke and a tear with some really great people. The kindness people have shown amazes me, those who’ve messaged me whilst I’m at my lowest point will always be special.
And I can’t put into words how astonished I was that people from twitter would actually make a journey to visit my business, purely because we’d tweeted occasionally.
So it may seem odd that I’m contemplating saying goodbye again and yes I know I’ve disappeared in the past and come back with my tail between my legs and who knows I might in the future.
I find giving up things easy, I’ve done it hundreds of times, whether it’s booze, carbs or gambling (types while eating a bacon sandwich with a pint next to me keeping one eye on the results from Southwell)
The problem for me is that I’m using twitter to hide from real life, in my strange little mind it excuses the reality that I’ve not really left the house in January.
I get to socialise without actually having to. I can have a night ‘out’ from my armchair, discussing sport, film, TV, music, food, and literature. There’s generally nothing too highbrow, let’s not get silly about things. I pour myself a drink and settle in for the night.
It’s been great, I don’t have to face up to any problems, people don’t judge me and I’m safe and the feelings of self loathing and failure are numbed.
The big BUT to this is that it’s not going to help me in the long run I know this. My fake life isn’t going to help me get better and certainly isn’t going to pay the bills.
I worry that in some ways it actually makes me worse. I can’t keep on relying on other people for my happiness. I’m also finding that my ‘shouty’ brain has me misconstruing the 140 characters people type.
The reality is I’ve probably got more out of twitter than I’ve put in but I do worry you all won’t survive not reading that I’ve walked the dog, loved my fish finger sandwich and the wine is open #DullAsFuck
Deep down I realise by leaving I’m probably clutching at straws, trying to force myself to function in society again. No doubt I’ll replace it with something useful like obsessive macaron making, or drinking.
Anyway I’m undecided, I’m not going to put it to the public vote you buggers will pack my metaphorical bags for me.
But if I do go, then in the words of Jerry Springer – Till next time look after yourself and each other.
If I don’t leave disregard the last line, I’ve just always liked it.