Editable therapy

I was have a crappy day, probably one of the worst I’ve had in a while.  Just a real ‘drag you down for a roll’ kind of crap.

And then I blogged, and for some reason, I felt better.  Why?  Did the internet hear my whine and send me the magic internet happy pill?  No, but wouldn’t it be cool if there was one?  I think it’d be the blue pill from the Matrix.  But I digress.

Why is it, that I feel better for bearing my uniquely crappy experience for you, my adoring public?  (And why am I hearing so many crickets?)  It’s not because of the out pouring of emotion that I am getting or the big cash payoff, tho I do accept checks.  It’s because I got it off my chest.  Tho I do have to admit the few comments of shared crappy days from friends on Facebook, and a couple of emails of people sympathizing definitely did make me feel a little better.

I think it’s the whole process of writing.  It’s me, sitting down at my keyboard and banging away on the keys, hoping that some of it makes sense.  It’s me typing, then hitting backspace a few times, and rewriting that thought so I can capture the emotion.  You know what I mean when you go to say something, and once you ‘say’ it, you realize if you say it a little different, THAT’s what you were shooting for.  It’s like editable therapy.

Ooooh, did I just coin a phrase?  Hmm, I just changed the title of the entry and I am liking this much better.

Editable therapy.  Interesting concept.  I can really blow out all of the crap that I’m thinking, really delve deeply into just how shitty my day was, and write it all out.  And then I can go back and take some of it back – no, I don’t want my Mom reading about how I went into the bathroom at work to wash my hands, and while I was standing there, two guys walked in, and TOTALLY blamed me for someone that had been in there previously and didn’t know the meaning of the phrase, “Courtesy Flush”

Shit, Okay, so my Mom is going to read some of the crap I didn’t want to write.  But that’s the beauty of this concept, it’s editable – if I want it out there, I can leave it out there, or go back and delete when I realize I REALLY don’t want my Mom reading something.

Anyway, something else occurred to me as I was writing things out.  I’m taking credit for making myself feel better and it just occurred to me – that there’s another part of the therapy.  In most therapeutic scenarios, there’s someone listening and at least nodding and saying ‘Mmmm hmmm’.  But this is better.  I shit you not, like 5 minutes after I posted how shitty a day I was having on Facebook, a guy I knew in highschool commented ‘My day sucked too’.  And not 10 minutes after I blogged about it, I got an email sympathising with me.  That’s the internet being my therapist and saying ‘Mmmm Hmmm’ to me.

wow.  all these ephiphanies, all at once.  I think I’m gonna faint.
Instead, I think i’ll go to sleep before midnight for once.