When to write?
01/11/24 15:57
I got asked an interesting question the other day - how do I decide what to video-blog and what to write. It caught me off guard a little, as I’d not given it much thought. It didn’t take much thought though to come to the conclusion that I write when I know I would struggle to talk through the subject I’m discussing. I struggle to ‘talk’ about some things - the more I try, the harder I find it, and it becomes frustrating. That frustration comes out in different ways - a common one that’s always misread is that I can look upset. I suppose I am in some ways, but it’s really frustration rather than what I’d imagine being emotionally upset would mean. If you want an example of that, check out about 8 mins 45 of this. I look upset, I‘m not. I’m frustrated because I’m struggling to make the point that is in my head - I just can’t find the words, and the more I try find them the further away they seem to get.
I’ve mentioned before that in my psychology studies I came across the thing about people without an internal monologue. I am one of these people. The thing is, until I’d read about it, I didn’t know I was any different to anyone else. The idea of having some form of running commentary in your head I just find bafflingly hard to ‘grab’. Is it like a compere? Is it Morgan Freeman? If I had to have one, I’d like Morgan Freeman: “Mark thought having another beer was a GREAT idea!” //Morgan Freeman: “It was not, in fact, a great idea.”.
I can’t imagine what it’s like any more than I can explain what it’s like for me - I don’t have ‘words’ in my head. I think stuff, it forms into words, and then falls out of my face. I’ve wondered (now) whether this is one of the reasons why people can find me overly direct and blunt. I can of course do the voice in the head thing, but to me it’s usually reciting stuff I’ve seen or experienced, it isn’t conversational. It’s kind of like watching a movie, rather than generating my own content, if that makes sense.
Anyway, I’ve wondered whether this is why I can find talking about such things difficult? My personal jury is out on that one. What did happen however is it got me reading my personal journals about such things - I tag my journals, so it’s pretty easy to filter by things related to how I’m feeling.
It was a bit of a shocker, and in some respects genuinely upsetting. I’ve a wonderful skill of forgetting bad stuff like it never happened. I know I was in a lot of pain (hell, I passed out several times because of it), but can I remember that pain? No, I cannot. I know it happened, but I can’t remember what it was like. If I try think about it, all I get back is a ‘yeah, zero stars, let’s not do that again’. So what did I find so shocking? My personal writing about my chemo experiences and how I feel about them today. I can’t relate to what I wrote, although I know through the language that I wrote it.
Now I’ve had a month off from treatment (radio-chemo starts Monday - I got this! - it’s currently Thursday), I’ve had time to consider stuff. I’m feeling stronger than I have in an age, it’s been so good to get most of my day back. I’m still not as strong, my balance is a bit off, and when I decide I’m tired oh my god it’s immediate rather than hey, I need a rest soon....but, compared to before I’m leagues away from there. I’m doing my ‘relentless positivity’ that sometimes others talk about and yet I don’t quite get.
I’ve been reading my notes about my chemo experience, and they’re a bit...unrelatable. They’re so different to how I currently feel about my treatment that I’m wondering if I have perhaps misrepresented it and made it out to be a walk in the park. I know it wasn’t. I’m sat here fully knowing the level of relief I felt finding out I was only doing 3 months rather than 6, but my memory of chemo was unpleasant but manageable. My journals say otherwise. The 4 days around chemo - 1 day lead up, the treatment day, and the couple of days afterward - became something I dreaded. I know this now, I just don’t think I appreciated how much.
In one journal I talk about finding it so hard I was going to ask them to stop. As I’m sat here, I cannot relate to that. I don’t know why I wrote that - more than once - or how I’d got there, but I also know how I deal with such horrific things - I deal with them, and I move on, and then it’s like they never happened. The positive journals then came out as soon as I allowed(!) people back in to my place usually by Saturday PM when I had had my chemo pump removed and was starting to feel a bit more human (chemo was on a Thursday).
It was also written in a pleading manner too - not something I’m used to experiencing in myself. Usually I’d be fuck this, I’m not doing this anymore, so simply wouldn’t. I know why I did of course - because it was the right thing to do, for me, and for those I love, and, despite my attempts to make otherwise, seem to love me too.
So yeah. I write about stuff I struggle to verbalise. Part of that is because of a lack of understanding of things, and it’s obvious to me now that writing about stuff helps me understand the subject more than perhaps just talking at a camera does?
I’ve mentioned before that in my psychology studies I came across the thing about people without an internal monologue. I am one of these people. The thing is, until I’d read about it, I didn’t know I was any different to anyone else. The idea of having some form of running commentary in your head I just find bafflingly hard to ‘grab’. Is it like a compere? Is it Morgan Freeman? If I had to have one, I’d like Morgan Freeman: “Mark thought having another beer was a GREAT idea!” //Morgan Freeman: “It was not, in fact, a great idea.”.
I can’t imagine what it’s like any more than I can explain what it’s like for me - I don’t have ‘words’ in my head. I think stuff, it forms into words, and then falls out of my face. I’ve wondered (now) whether this is one of the reasons why people can find me overly direct and blunt. I can of course do the voice in the head thing, but to me it’s usually reciting stuff I’ve seen or experienced, it isn’t conversational. It’s kind of like watching a movie, rather than generating my own content, if that makes sense.
Anyway, I’ve wondered whether this is why I can find talking about such things difficult? My personal jury is out on that one. What did happen however is it got me reading my personal journals about such things - I tag my journals, so it’s pretty easy to filter by things related to how I’m feeling.
It was a bit of a shocker, and in some respects genuinely upsetting. I’ve a wonderful skill of forgetting bad stuff like it never happened. I know I was in a lot of pain (hell, I passed out several times because of it), but can I remember that pain? No, I cannot. I know it happened, but I can’t remember what it was like. If I try think about it, all I get back is a ‘yeah, zero stars, let’s not do that again’. So what did I find so shocking? My personal writing about my chemo experiences and how I feel about them today. I can’t relate to what I wrote, although I know through the language that I wrote it.
Now I’ve had a month off from treatment (radio-chemo starts Monday - I got this! - it’s currently Thursday), I’ve had time to consider stuff. I’m feeling stronger than I have in an age, it’s been so good to get most of my day back. I’m still not as strong, my balance is a bit off, and when I decide I’m tired oh my god it’s immediate rather than hey, I need a rest soon....but, compared to before I’m leagues away from there. I’m doing my ‘relentless positivity’ that sometimes others talk about and yet I don’t quite get.
I’ve been reading my notes about my chemo experience, and they’re a bit...unrelatable. They’re so different to how I currently feel about my treatment that I’m wondering if I have perhaps misrepresented it and made it out to be a walk in the park. I know it wasn’t. I’m sat here fully knowing the level of relief I felt finding out I was only doing 3 months rather than 6, but my memory of chemo was unpleasant but manageable. My journals say otherwise. The 4 days around chemo - 1 day lead up, the treatment day, and the couple of days afterward - became something I dreaded. I know this now, I just don’t think I appreciated how much.
In one journal I talk about finding it so hard I was going to ask them to stop. As I’m sat here, I cannot relate to that. I don’t know why I wrote that - more than once - or how I’d got there, but I also know how I deal with such horrific things - I deal with them, and I move on, and then it’s like they never happened. The positive journals then came out as soon as I allowed(!) people back in to my place usually by Saturday PM when I had had my chemo pump removed and was starting to feel a bit more human (chemo was on a Thursday).
It was also written in a pleading manner too - not something I’m used to experiencing in myself. Usually I’d be fuck this, I’m not doing this anymore, so simply wouldn’t. I know why I did of course - because it was the right thing to do, for me, and for those I love, and, despite my attempts to make otherwise, seem to love me too.
So yeah. I write about stuff I struggle to verbalise. Part of that is because of a lack of understanding of things, and it’s obvious to me now that writing about stuff helps me understand the subject more than perhaps just talking at a camera does?
