Finally Accepting My Own Advice

For years I have encourage students to write when they are upset, or anxious, or depressed, or angry. I have harped on the therapeutic values of writing and promoted the value of writing daily - both for academic improvement and mental relief. In the midst of all of that, I often felt like the biggest hypocrite ever to lead a class. While my charges often found my suggestion fulfilling, I never found a way to practice what I preached. Certainly, I attempted to journal at times. I also have a decent collection of writing with which I tinkered sporadically. But, writing on a consistent and frequent basis managed to elude me - until now.

This blog has become a vital component of my sanity. I knew that even before this past week, but my lack of output over the last seven days has been unbearable. While I realize that my bubbling animosity has a multitude of causes, a portion of it definitely grew out of my unfulfilled need to express myself. Unpacking my anxieties has become a vital piece of my routine. I am also amused that my need to be "more selfish" has finally resulted in at least one tangible (and definable) activity. I do plan to discover more elements of my life that are specifically mine, but it is incredible to realize that I need to post here simply to be at peace with myself.

Yes, I worried all week about what my "regular readers" might think if I didn't post soon, but even more powerfully, I knew that I needed to write about my week simply to stay sane. What strikes me as most humorous about this realization is my own attitude about technology. If anyone had told me three months ago that blogging would become as important in my life as finding a correct diagnosis or feeling supported by my men's group, I would have laughed in your face. While I have often actively supported the use of technology in the classroom, I have never fully understood the impact that computers can have on an individual's life. Part of my ability to "cope" with narcolepsy is directly linked to computing. I have NEVER been able to journal, now suddenly it is a core piece of me. Why? Now, I know that people are reading it. I want to help others by putting my thoughts out on the web, but the primary purpose of this writing is for me. For the first time in my life, I am selfish in a way that it vital and necessary. I needed to know that others would read it. My vanity LOVES that my words matter. Even better, some people actually leave comments. My words have touched others. Again, a portion of the thrill is helping someone, but another is that I matter.

Blogging is therapy for me. It is the very thing that I have driven home in writing classes for years, but could never accomplish for myself. Best of all, I know that I would continue to do it now, even if every one of the amazing people who visit my blog disappeared. I need this. If nothing else, like my good friend from La Mancha, it is here that I tilt with windmills. Nothing (short of a major medical miracle) will ever remove narcolepsy from my life. This Erewhon (spell it backwards if you are unfamiliar with the word or Butler's book - you do need to flip the w and the h) of the Internet provides me the place that I can be free of its grasp. I can rage against it and embrace it. I can cry and laugh and fall and rise. Quixotically, I can be the knight I have always seen in my mind's eye, doing battle with the dragon (or Darth) that vexes me to no end. I need this outlet and claim it as my own!

A wonderful post script in my crazy narcoleptic world - although this posting is also dated for Sunday, June 8, I did not finish it until June 9. I fought my Xyrem for at least a half hour, once again attempting to do too much (balance may yet find me), but eventually succumbed to sleep. I wrote the final paragraph and a half of the penultimate paragraph on Monday. That said, I love that it happened that way because I know I never would have hit on those final thoughts as my body was shutting down. Blessing and curse - narcolepsy!