Do I Have the Patience?

Fifteen years ago there was a girl who lived in a small town. Everything about her was unremarkable despite the teenage attempts at expressing herself. So she found her home online with the other outcast. Between dodging the heavy handed ban hammer moderators of the MSN days, and wielding her keyboard in overly worded journal entries, she found a safe haven. As with all homes, she out grew her space and left her online home. For years her palms itched to say something, anything about her life. But the truth was she had become even more reserved. Her words, once an ocean of nonsense, had become small and puddled up only to dry out. Fifteen years later that girl realized she'd been placing one hundred - forty character bandages on her wounds.

Alright here we go. Blai Starker returns! 2008..... wait, I mean 2018. This is going to be one hell of a process for me. The real question is though, do I have the patience?

I am now thirty years old and a lot has changed since I spent endless hours with the Hybrid Theory album on repeat while tending to my Neopets. (Please no one call the internet police on me. That Aisha lived a posh life full of fairy food and games. The fact that I let her fade into useless internet code should be evidence of my inability for emotional attachment. More on that later.) I am somehow married. If you survived my teenage online journal days, you'd be just as impressed by that fact as I am. We own a house and live a pretty typically, socially accepted life. Aside from me working on cars as a profession and being a feminist that has a huge hatred for gender identification and the social implications it's forced on us all who doesn't want to deal with  each social political tide turning is just not worth the meh I'd have to give.... are you still breathing? Me either. That's one of the points I wanted to make about me having the patience.

I tire my damn self out just being myself. Where once writing gave me an out, it now gives me complications. I feel like as an adult I really want to impress people more than I did as a teenager. However I have an avoidance personality so instead of making the attempt I just shimmy my way off stage. Where as once I'd be making up my own dance to Billy Jean in the grocery store as my mom pretended to be a random shopper who's really interested in that package of noodles. May someone's god bless my mother for putting up with my mood swings. See? I'm deflecting. Avoid. Avoid. Avoid and try to think of something that might be funny.

So do I have the patience to make myself sit down and talk about it?  The answer is really simple when it came down to it. I have to do it. I have to do this. I have to start talking again. Even if it's into the void of the internet. Because if I don't I might just die of writing dehydration. I'm not sure that has any profound medical studies attached to it, but for the sake of this blog thing, we're going to pretend Shonda Rimes covered it in a Private Practice episode. I can say that because I haven't watched Private Practice so I can life my lie happily.

Welcome back alter ego who's doing a bad job of altering my ego. It's time we become friends again even if it means being totally annoyed with ourself. Nobody use the words "Borderline personality disorder" in the comments.