November 10, 2022
I have so many thoughts, but have lost my breath to say the words I need to speak. I’m left with only the pressured space between my ears to push them out through my mouth and into the open air of the world around me. My mind is an unstoppable machine, constantly churning out ideas which spill over the sides of my cranium onto every inch of surrounding my brain matter. But, I can’t find it in myself to give these things form and substance through articulation of thought and word.
It’s hard enough being a loner, and recently all of my life’s problems seem to be piling on top of me. This only gets harder when I feel like there’s nobody around to listen or care about what I’m going through. It’s frustrating when all I want is someone to listen or talk to, but aside from Amelia, I can’t find anyone. It feels like no matter how much I try, there is always something blocking my voice from coming out.
I spend my days writing down my thoughts, trying to take down the things in my head that need attention. I have lost all of my friends, and I feel as if nobody truly understands what I’m going through. Even if Amelia doesn’t fully understand everything about my situation, I know in my heart that she still cares and loves me.
It’s a feeling that’s very difficult to describe—it feels like something is in my throat and I can’t breathe because of it. Of course, I’m not actually choking on anything; it’s the result of an overabundance of thoughts and memories resurfacing when I least expect them. These moments of overwhelming remembrance make me feel nervous and anxious all day long, unable to focus on anything else other than the scenes in my own mind.
My heart is heavy with pain and sorrow. I know I am not alone in my sadness, as Amelia constantly reminds me, and it’s not a sign of weakness if I inevitably reach out for help from others. She constantly reminds me that it’s okay to take care of myself first before taking care of everyone else around me. I have to constantly remind myself that life is a marathon, not a sprint. Still, it takes time to turn things around again after going through hard times like these.
It isn’t my position to comment on your personal circumstances, but as a professional book critic with a degree in literature, I can congratulate you on your ability to write in an interesting and beautiful style.
That is why I am a follower. Thank you.
Joanna
Wow, Joanna! You have truly made my day!
You are more than welcome!
Joanna
Thomas, for what it’s worth, I will listen by reading in this space that you’ve created. Your writing is resonative of peeling back these layers of accumulated trauma to the self; yet all these years you were making the ultimate sacrifice (of your young lifetime so far) risking your life in service, to help others. What incredible strength. Your writing reveals a remarkable depth of wisdom and hope, I feel like Joanna is right, you’re a great writer.
I like your photography, this new life you’re building in Vermont is fascinating to me, as is the enormous transition in your life, away from your old career. That’s why I’ve come here. Thank you for sharing about these things, it’s a privilege to read your accounts.
Jason, thank you for reading and being an active participant in comments! Although I have an active social life on my blog, in actual life, I have become extremely unpopular. My wife theorizes that I have lost friends for a multitude of reasons, including but not limited to, being successful, never finishing college, retiring in my 40’s, being openly lesbian, etc. This year (2022), I closed all of my failing social media accounts and poured the essence of my being into my blog, which is a decision I wish I had made earlier, to be honest.
I have endured and overcome unimaginable adversity in my life; the traumas I endured were only obstacles in my life path, and having successfully overcome them, I’m now living the life I always dreamed of as a little girl.
People often ask me about the worst things I had to endure at work, and it remains a tie between some of the worst things I’ve seen and the loss of a handful of people whom I worked with who became family to me.
I am glad that you find my life fascinating. As far as I am concerned, my life was ultimately shaped by my decisions, and I decided at a very young age that I had very specific goals in life, and I would inevitably stop at nothing to achieve them. To doctors, therapists, and those who know me, I am an enigma, a woman of mystery perhaps. I’ve been told that someone with my IQ (178) would be better suited for vocations far and above the fire service, though being a firefighter was a childhood dream of mine, and eventually it became my career. I would be lying if I tried to claim that I didn’t miss it. And yet, despite the hardships, the trials and tribulations, and my personal sacrifices, if I had the chance, there’s no doubt in my mind that I would do it all again.
It would really be helpful if people posed their questions as comments here; I am always looking for ideas of things to write about, especially when it comes to my own life.
I’m thinking I should really update my about page.
Loner life is not easy when there are so many words needing companions for their stories.
I’ve been a loner all my life, and for whatever reason, I subscribed to the societal belief that ones life is only complete and/or fulfilled when one is surrounded by friends.
Growing up, I was made to believe that my life would emulate the television sitcoms I watched as a child. I fell in love with a girl for the first time when she and I were both 16, and I thought about the television show The Wonder Years.
I joined Facebook as soon as MySpace was shutting down, and was never able to become popular. I think that I may have peaked 600 friends on Facebook, only to slowly lose people over the years. Twitter was another disaster.
My wife is the only person I’ll be seeing for Thanksgiving. We were both orphaned by our families when we married because we’re both women and our families haven’t been able to accept that, and perhaps they never will.
We are both writers, and it seems that the self-imposed weight of being so much more is that which forces us to document our life stories. We don’t write for money, for fame, or notoriety. We write because we want to leave behind a legacy.