I just got trolled on a social media platform, and I let it influence me enough to do a double take on some of the content I’ve released lately. The dude pissed me off, but I do not have the adult skills to effectively communicate with words, especially on a public space like the internet. I’m much better with my hands. It’s not a healthy way to resolve conflict, and I’ve spent eight years re-evaluating my coping mechanisms when it comes to my indifference’s with others. Because I don’t feel capable of handling it decently I just removed the content and internalized what he said.
It’s nice to hear things that hold merit from people you love, even when they are hard truths to swallow, but to hear a projection from somebody who transmits the message with malice–like an internet troll–is just maddening. I think it was the way it was said that upset me.
Also, he was wrong–kind of. He was wrong in the motives he accused me of, but there was some truth to the whole thing. That’s what stung. It’s good that I don’t attempt to resolve issues physically anymore because I’d probably be “right” 50% of the time–the other 50% I’d get my ass kicked, but 100% of the time I’d just walk off in the wrong direction bound to make the same mistakes.
What the hell am I doing? Thinking too much is a start, but also when this question starts to bounce around in my head I can usually look around and see an unmade bed, a bunch of clatter all over my desk, a full laundry bin, dusty floors, crowded counters in the kitchen, and a sink full of dishes. I look in my closet and see a bunch of clothes stacked that I don’t even wear. How many freaking towels do I need?
It’s hard for me to get oriented when my environment is cluttered, and when my environment is cluttered it is almost always a representation of my mind. I’m scattered. I’m not even sure what part of the house I’m in. I have way too much stimulation going on. As I start clearing away all this clatter and clutter and useless stuff, I’ll re-orient.
It’s super easy to get distracted and deviate from the path. I’m grateful for these instances because they allow me to pause before I get lost. They allow me to stop, ask myself questions, and honestly seek the answers to those questions. This question had to do with the blog. I’m asking myself what I’m doing it for. Am I doing it for likes? Am I doing it for social recognition? Am I doing it for a mass following? I honestly don’t know, but I can’t deny that all of those things influence me.
In the beginning I promised myself that I’d only write for me, and it’s alarming that there are completed posts that I’m too scared to publish. They are personal and dark. They have nothing to do with climbing. I can’t see any reason why anybody would want to read them. I used to feel that way about myself–still do sometimes, so I don’t make myself available. They’re scheduled now. They deserve a chance. I should try giving myself one.
I love climbing, and outdoor adventures, but they don’t fully compose me. There’s also a recovering heroin addict inside; he’s damaged and trying to recover from the battlefields of addiction. He has a voice, and his shouts cannot be repressed. When he’s not happy, nobody’s happy. It’s he who is featured in the photo.
In case you’ve never seen it, that’s what the face of death looks like.