a history

I began writing this blog in December of 2004. B had sent me a message directing me to the blog he had started--he was inspired by T's blog--and, reading his first entries, I was inspired to begin my own. I had been thinking about embarking on this kind of thing for some time, but I needed a kick to get me going.

Reading B's blog, and beginning my own, was like leaping off a cliff. I did not realize that at the time. But soon I became so wrapped up in my own blog that it was like an obsession. Like most obsessions it had its dark side. I set off on a path that brought me tremendous pain, and harmed me in my life. Y had only returned from Japan for a few weeks and we were still getting back to our old selves when I became noticeably troubled and preoccupied. I did not keep the blog a secret for I knew that was a stupid thing to do.

This blogging, reading and writing, sent me reeling back to an emotional state that I had worked very hard to get past; the previous summer, the same emotional state almost killed me, so desperate I was for escape that all I could think of was disappearing. In those first weeks, that state came roaring back. I became severely troubled, depressed, shaky. Y didn't say anything, but I know he was troubled by the change in me. I saw it all and yet I could not stop myself.

While I am constantly thinking about the past, my own history, there are some chapters that I would have erased if I could. I thought that I had put them behind me, that I had come to accept them. Blogging brought them back in all their troubling dimensions, with violent force. Blogging also brought back realizations and fears that I had overcome, or so I thought. Blogging became a curse in a way, and yet I was--and am--drawn to it as a form of self-expression.

I regard the start of my blog as the start of the death of my relationship with Y. I could not help myself, and he could not cope with me, and what he learned from reading my blog caused him upset and distress. I knew that it hurt him, and yet I had to tell the truth. I am not a good liar, I've never been a good liar, and many times I wished that I were a good liar. I mostly blame myself for the failure of what once was a wonderful, happy relationship, and even now when I think back on it I have wistful, happy memories that only make me more sad.

So I come to now. In the fall Y left for good. I could not do anything to save us. I was devastated and sunk, again, into a deep and overwhelming depression.

I am recovering now. But lately I have been thinking of finishing this blog. Maybe all this revisitation is bad for me. Yesterday I met with my psychiatrist and in talking, I realized how bound I am in the past, in this continuous self examination. Blogging has only increased this tendency. I am not sure what I will decide. But do not be surprised if I go "poof" and disappear.