Deserving

My therapist asked me last week why I stopped blogging. I told her that I just kind of ran out of things to say.

She looked at me for a minute in silence and then said "So, if it's because you're afraid, then you should probably look at it. If you're just not interested in it anymore, then that's okay ... but then again, losing interest in activities you used to enjoy is pretty much the definition of depression."

Womp.

There's so much to tease out. I criticize myself, I can't live up to an expectation based on something I did once, at the peak of my writing, when I'd been actively in it for a long time. I worry about what other people think of me, I worry that other people aren't seeing me at all.

But fundamentally, at the core, there is shame. Shame at the idea that I think I deserve to have a voice. "Who are you?" the shame says, "Who are you to think you deserve to be heard?"

I don't know. But here I am.