I've been in a real funk with social media for the past two years, and honestly I think journaling is the culprit. I love journaling. I've kept planners and recorded my travels in special bound volumes filled with treasures and trash collected from my trips for years, but I didn't begin journaling my everyday life on paper until 2022, and not with any real sense of consistency until 2023. And as much as I love it, I also think in some ways it's ruining my life. Maybe that sounds dramatic, but it's definitely making me lonely and it's something I've felt forced to reassess as I've felt myself becoming more and more disconnected from the world as I drift further and further into my own introspection. And when you constantly write for yourself as your own audience, it becomes harder and harder to then let anyone else in. At what point does introspection just become rumination?
This probably makes it sound like I want to quit journaling, and I don't. I truly find it beneficial. My journal is more of a memory keeper, tracking my special interests, and appreciating the smaller moments, and I love how it helps me to keep track of the time, something that otherwise eludes me. But I need to find a better balance. Talking to no one but myself all of the time has made the prospect of opening up to anyone else too scary.
I love my journals, I love having these little physical records of my life, there is so much satisfaction to be had from flicking through all of your most precious memories and everything that's inspired you in one big book. But I would like to get back into the habit of telling actual people again too, and feeling like part of a community. Because whilst journaling is fun, I don't think it's healthy to be too inside your own head. I've said before that I have no interests in "influencing" or earning any money from social media, I just like having my own little corner and finding like minded people who chose to sit here with me - that's always felt very special. And I feel like growing up it gave me a sense of belonging, and a space to be myself but I feel like I don't really have that any more. The less you post online, the more weight each post seems to carry as if it has to be worth speaking up about and breaking the silence for, and so the harder it becomes to post anything at all. I never used to care so much. I liked oversharing on the internet, and I'd like to get back to that to some degree but I feel like I've lost the art of sharing without over-analysing, a neurotic shell of who I once was. Letting anyone into my world now feels terrifying, especially as I've became more and more depressed. And the more depressed I've felt the less I felt like sharing, which made me more depressed. The most vicious of cycles.
Anyway, I shared these photos of my journal on Tumblr and it unexpectedly absolutely popped off, so I thought I'd share the photos here too, and it felt like a good excuse to articulate these thoughts and get them out of my head as I guess it also plays a big part in why I've decided to start this blog. Maybe it all sounds neurotic to you, and it probably is. I'm just learning to be less insecure about it all.
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