For my first post on Medium, I’d like to make no sense

I’ve hit a meaningful writing blank that is so old now it’s not new. I don’t write because I don’t like to publish stupid thoughts. But I have A LOT of those, and I go fishing every day for meaningful thoughts but catch none (and some days I don’t like to fish). So I think: Okay, stupid thoughts- would you make a meaningful contribution to the internet? And every time I immediately know the ‘no’ answer to that question I hate myself.

But I was thinking about this for the briefest moment ever (nano second-quality thinking) while I was re-reading an Anne Lammott Facebook post I bookmarked and I realized something about myself that could pass as “meaningful”:

When I’m down I just stay down. Like some people who are really amazing and mythical creatures of optimism do this thing when they are sad. After five minutes or a week they write this great, tall tale blog post about how when they were sad it taught them something really important about life and love and God’s mercy or salvation or how they felt like they were inside a Pinterest quote. And then they have an inner laugh, not like an LOL, but just a small haha inside but when they write about it, it’s more like HAHAHAHAHAHA. And then they are happy-ish again. They crossfit challenged themselves out of sadness and got the runner’s high which made them feel good about themselves for doing 1000 emotional push-ups, which is, damn good.

I don’t do that. I don’t even do crossfit. When I run, I just get hungry.

When I’m down, I take a seat. I just stay down awhile. Like how did I get in the basement anyway? And maybe while I’m down here I could find some lost or misplaced items like my mind or a natural love for all of humanity.

This happened on the week of my birthday. I went downstairs to the negative thoughts basement to hang out for a little bit. Actually, the day this happened I watched four hours of Youtube. One must keep herself entertained if she is just going to sit in the basement all day. Note to future employers who may read this: It was a non work day that I watched all the Youtube.

And I feel like I’m halfway down the steps today.

So to sum up this boring pity party for one: I sometimes get sad if I’m not happy. Which is all kinds of stupid and is non-deserving of any sympathy of any kind.

But it’s all I got.

Back to (what I think might be) my main point: I don’t try to find any silver lining. I usually just sit and watch the storm. Feel the rain drops and the drizzle turn into monsoon. Feel all there is to feel.

Because it sucks to be a person who doesn’t feel anymore, right? Channeling my inner John Green novel: Like that last time your partner broke up with you and it hurt so bad you decided not to feel which was ‘good plan in the head’ at the time. But then you moved on to your next, better partner and they were nicer but you had this hard time of letting them into your emotional circle because you don’t feel much anymore.

Of course, I’m above all of that since I’m married. J/k, it never stops because a lot of things can hurt my feelings. But I try not to blame for at least the first 48-hours because then I say mean things to the person I love most. So I wait until the 49th hour when I’ve allowed myself the pardon of being mad about something stupid, then I apologize. “Sorry’s (and compliments) never get old” is something I like to tell people who I wish would say sorry to me. I also like presents.

Any good writer I know has the capacity to deeply feel. They love fast and cry hard and hurt fully. What I learn most from their words is not what they say, but rather how they feel which is deep and wide and overflowing. They feel things that some of us never scratch the surface of. I think because some of us are inexperienced feelers. We do not know how.

So, dear friends (or dear self), I think we should feel more. When we feel more, I think we might care more. When we care more, it’s easier to love more. And this world, it needs more love. And our own selves could benefit too.

Also, this is what the inside of a storm can look like.

Photograph by Mike Jones (mrjones131 on Flickr) — I found it on Google search.