Sorry for the delay in posts the last week or so. I’ve been a little busy trying to start my life all over again, ‘n’ stuff.

(A quick note to new readers: anytime you see words underlined or in a different color, you can click on them to read something related to the current post. Okay, carry on..)

There’s a part of me that is really glad things happened the way they did, you know? The whole situation forced me to take a genuine look at the guy I see in the mirror every morning (that would be me in case you were wondering) and decide if I care enough aboutthird person him to fix things, or if I should just let him keep treading water.

I decided to help him out…

Is it weird that I just spent half a paragraph referring to myself in the third person? Not as weird as you might think. Many times, when I’m in the midst of a panic attack, or just a particularly anxious moment, I get the feeling that I’m outside of my body observing what is going on, but completely unable to control it. I’ve been assured by many people, some of them trained professionals, that this is not at all abnormal for people who suffer with anxiety and depression.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in third person recently.

The-more-you-knowInteresting factoid: referring to oneself in the third person is called ILLEISM. 🙂 See, this blog is not only entertaining, but educational. 

If I’m being totally honest and transparent (everybody’s using that word lately, so I thought I should, too) then I must say that, while my life has not been direction-less, it has certainly been leaning toward the chaotic side of the universe. I mean, I’m sort of a jack of all trades and master of several, but not all in a way. In my brain that translates to I kinda don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. And, THAT….causes a lot of problems.

What I really, Really, REALLY want to be is a writer. The problem with that is that I also really, REALLY like to eat and drive and have electricity in my apartment. So, until someone recognizes my genius, I’ll need another job. But then my wanderlust kicks in and I get bored and frustrated; and then my anxiety kicks in and I get scared and terrified, and here I am–staring at myself in the mirror and getting all third-persony about it.

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you just wanted to scream, WHAT THE HELL??!!

This is one of those moments for me. It’s a moment that never seems to pass by no matter how many minutes, or hours, or days, or weeks pass. It’s a moment when everything I touch seems to turn to crap no matter how hard I try for gold. It’s a moment when I have to keep telling myself that crap is GREAT fertilizer and so I keep throwing seeds down on top of the crap trusting that something beautiful will come out of it.

Okay, I’m not crazy about where that metaphor was going, so I’m gonna cut it off before it gets too weird!

Seriously, though, have you ever had one of those moments? Are you having one now? Do you have a magic trick that makes those moments go by faster?

If you answered yes to any of those questions, then take a couple of minutes to post a comment and tell me about it. I’d love to hear about your third-persony moments. Who knows, maybe we share something in common? But, even if you decide not to comment, would you do me a favor? Would you please take a second to LIKE and SHARE this post in case someone you know might be staring at him/herself in the mirror? I surely would appreciate it!

 

 

 

 

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6 thoughts on “Getting All Third-Persony About It

  1. I don’t think I’d ever have called them ‘what the hell’ moments, but until my mid-thirties there were several pursuits of mine that I just intuited were not worth devoting my life to – being in business, being a musician, being a sportsperson, being a spouse – all of which would’ve been life defining. Contrary to expectation (had I had any), then I picked up a secondhand book in Oxford called ‘Instead of Religion’ (I was never religious) and that set me on a course of self-enquiry that very quickly made me realise that was what I should be doing with my life. It felt like coming home, as the cliché goes.

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    1. It might be a cliche, but it’s a cliche I really like! That’s what I feel like when I’m writing…not necessarily when I’m writing these little trifling blog posts, but when I sit down and really write. It’s like coming home. It feels the way I remember feeling pulling into the driveway of my grandmother’s house when I was a little kid. There’s just something right about it. If that makes any sense at all. You might have to wipe some of the syrup off of it before you read it! 🙂 Thanks so much for reading and for taking the time to comment!

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      1. I lived with an artist for many years – decades actually – someone who had this innate sense of what they ought devote their life to. Eventually it paid off with international recognition, and Arts Council GB support, so they did well to follow their convictions. The big question, as you say, is how to pay the bills in the meantime. Have you considered robbing a bank?

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      2. HAHAHAHA!! That actually made me (literally) laugh out loud! In answer to your question, I refer you to the paragraph in my post about everything I touch turning to crap. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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