There has been a lot of self analysis running through my head lately. This mostly sits with my procrastination around personal writing. Like, why do I avoid it...but never consider just not doing it? Its a very odd issue I have struggled with most of my adult life.

Part of my personal work around my struggles with depression have centered around owning all parts of myself, especially the parts I'm not proud of or are conflicted by. I believe they provide a toxic base on which everything else springs from.

For example, I've used LJ on and off for more than two decades. You wouldn't know this from my activity on this instance, but I do have most of my old posts. Some of this is simply not wanting posts about college parties and such out in the world, those posts will remain my eyes only. But, there were a great many social decisions I made in my formative years that a) I don't think I ever really processed, and b) may still be impacting me today.

So, as a side project I am going to sift through my old posts and really challenge myself to put them back up publicly. A sort of speaking the monsters name takes away its power sort of thing.

The first monster is paranoia. One of the earliest signs I'm on a downward spiral is that I get paranoid about my online presence and start pulling content. I think I am being watched, information will be used without permission, or that I'll be judged. Its all in my head, I know this after years of work.

The problem with my admittedly mild paranoia is that it reminds me of my mother, the scary part of her, the part of her that threw out all family pictures in the house. This triggers embarrassment and shame in me. Its even worse if there is a valid nugget at the center of this shit storm. I look back on some of my older friendships and relationships and now wonder how much of it was real or imagined. Its unsettling. Some, if not most of these connections were likely going to end anyway. I just now think my mental health hastened the timeline.