Kat Atwell is a freelance writer, blogger & stage presence telling stories that deliver laughs, validation & community.

Mental Health | Wellness & Self Image | Experiential & Reviews

You just know.

I'm lucky. I have friends that know when stuff is going on, and they faithfully read this journal regularly, knowing full well that I'm making a concerted effort to face things head on, and are still fully aware that something is happening behind the scenes that I'm poorly trying to hide.

Poker is game I should never, ever play.

At this point in my life, if there are any secrets to be held, the only one who isn't blatantly aware, or brave enough to talk about them, is me. It's humbling, and humiliating, and frustrating as hell. I don't know if it's a stubborn nature that causes me to keep pushing things off, or fear, or a tiny voice in my head telling me I just need to be patient and wait for life to resolve itself - likely a combination of the three.

It's hard. I have these vulnerable moments where I admit that it's hard, or that I'm sad - more accurately, that I'm not happy, and then I try to explain it away. I shouldn't be judgmental of myself because of this. If I try harder, it'll work out. I shoulder some of the blame here, so when I tell you I'm sad about work, or marriage, or choose your own facet of life, I'm already feeling bad that you're not getting the whole story. I'm defending anyone else who may be involved in why I'm not OK at any given moment, because deep down, I likely believe the onus lies in my hands.

And it does. I mean, at its core, our problems are our problems because we've chosen to allow them to be our problems. A decision has been made, consciously or otherwise, to carry our own burdens. It's how we react and problem solve that matters. It's the perspective we choose to see that dictates the direction life moves.

I think, at the root of all of it, that's what makes me feel so defeated when I'm down. I'm responsible. And I don't mean to martyr myself by any means, and I know I'm doing it anyway, but it is what it is.

This is the point in my journalling tonight where I want to get all Pollyanna and tell you about why life is so much brighter than the picture I'm painting right now. I'm aware of all the goodness surrounding me - all the people and gifts and talents, blah blah blah. And honestly, I don't know if I do it to read my own words, or to try to convince everyone else who gives a damn that I am OK (OK being whatever makes a person not worry about someone else).

If it's a trust thing, I have a lot to learn. I need to give myself more credit, and I know that. It's just so hard. I have no trouble whatsoever standing up for anyone else, really, nearly anyone, and that includes people I barely know. It's because I believe at my core there's inate goodness in every person. I feel like that should be spelled innate.

I've gone through some of my previous entries, by the way, and discovered glaring errors (misspellings, grammatical errors, you name it), and I've been embarrassed that I've let them slide. But, it is what it is.

It is what it is. I wish I could sit in that statement and allow it to permeate the place that refuses to hear me preach all this stuff about loving oneself and accepting life today, and seeing possibility in every situation.

I am morose tonight, which is weird, considering that I had a good evening. My entire day was good, frankly. No arguments, no confrontations (including the ones I'd anticipated)...it's just weird. I'm not sitting here crying or feeling sorry for myself, either. I'm removed, emotionally speaking.

Tomorrow I am going to be seriously exhausted if I don't go to bed in a matter of minutes. So, I think this is enough for one night.

I'm totally doing spell-check now.

I was right. Two Ns in innate. Off to bed with me.


It's worth it.