I’m coming to the conclusion that I stopped blogging because I stopped believing my opinions were valid. I’m still not entirely convinced, but I think I’ve been silencing myself for too long now that I feel it’s necessary to at least attempt to write again. I haven’t stopped altogether. In fact, my entire career is based on my ability to write. But simply writing, for me, is something I have struggled to continue with for a long time.

Maybe there’s a reason for that. We get more than enough of people’s opinions on social media today. I don’t believe it’s a fear of being drowned out, but rather, a fear of not being able to relate in a way that truly gets through to you. What about me and whatever ends up on this blog makes it legitimately worth your time?

I’m aware that my perspective is another symptom of (what I’m sure a lot of you know all too well) depression. If I’m being honest, I think this particular period of depression has lasted a year now. Prior to this past year, I genuinely did not know it could go on so continuously for such an extended period of time. I’m not foolish enough to think that depression literally cannot last a long f*cking time. I know this. But when it comes to my own experiences with this illness, it used to reappear at my mind’s doorstep in waves. A few months of darkness, then more months in a row of light.

But this time was different. And for a long time it became hard to remember the light at all. Every morning when I woke up, it felt as if this lead blanked was draped over me and I didn’t have the strength to take it off. The weight was excruciating. And speaking of weight. My body now features a lovely showcase of stretch marks that never used to exist. Battle wounds from periods of emotional eating, followed by periods where I didn’t feel like eating much of anything at all.

Let me make something very clear. I am terrified of annoying you. I don’t write any of this seeking pity. I just feel a need to convey my emotions more so than others, I suppose. I’m pretty sure everyone who knows me would say that I have a constant tendency to wear my emotions on my sleeve. While this leads to a passion for communicating on my end, I’m also aware that it has many, many negative side effects.

I become more aware of the side effects of who I am every single day through my relationships. I realize that things impact me differently than most people. I do not wish to be affected by all these things; I would give anything for a different result… but this is part of who I am.

To risk sounding completely selfish (another great fear of mine), I’m not writing this for you or anyone else. I’m writing this for myself and maybe another person who happens to read this and feels slightly less alone in the world. I think that people who feel things so excruciatingly much have a tendency to be viewed as self-centered. Only children, like myself, also have a tendency to be viewed the same as well. But if there is one thing I do know about who I am as a person, it’s that that just isn’t true.

I think about the all-inclusive you constantly.

Maybe I’m failing to make my point and you feel as if I’m literally publishing an example of my selfishness with this post. I really, really hope that is not the case. I know you can’t please everyone, but oh my god, would I like to have that ability. In conclusion, I’m sorry for how many times I’ve said “I” in this post and I hope if you have too many feelings like me, you’ll want to join my conversation about them here.