Too Much
This evening I’ve been bopping along following this tutorial and I get it to the point where the script is supposed to create files named “Author - Title” and it just bombs right the fuck out–it’s taking all the text I want to insert into the body of the note as the title and I feel so fucking stupid that I can’t even follow a YouTube tutorial OR the image of the completed workflow.
But I feel so fucking stupid most of the time these days. It’s been extremely educational.
I don’t know what it is about me that others find to be “too much,” but here I am, in The Land of Natalie is Too Much and Why Can’t You Be Like Everyone Else? again.
This time, I’m narrowing the frame others see. Not here, of course, because if I can’t be too much on my own fucking website, what’s the point of having one? But elsewhere. Minimal personality, no attempts at conversation beyond the bare minimum, and a grinding sense of inadequacy humming along in the background to trip me up.
Bah. At this point in my life, feeling like I have to make myself smaller for other people’s comfort is really, shall we say, something. If I’m having feelings, I need to express them somewhere in order to deal with them, but I need to be more selective about where they’re expressed.
I do my best to regulate my emotions but there are things getting in my way there. Like the grinding sense of inadequacy, the hamster wheel of anxiety, the brain fog of depression, and the fear of being figuratively smacked around (thanks, C-PTSD). Honestly, I should be melting down every day and it’s a miracle I can more or less function as an adult human being with a mortgage (why did they let me have a mortgage?).
Do you know why I don’t like playing board or card games? Because when I was a kid, if I didn’t let my younger sister win most of the time, she’d have a temper tantrum and I’d get blamed for it. I spent so much of my childhood wound so tightly that the only way to get away from it was by reading, near constantly. Did you know that obsessive reading in childhood is a form of dissociation?
Anyhow. This is what I’m blogging about now. Deal with it. Or not! You always have a choice.