The Teenage Drama folder

I have a folder in my Gmail called Teenage Drama. It stems from a series of events that took place back in February that I haven’t written about on here. Give it time though, I’ll get there. It will either be titled, “Grace Under Fire” or “She’s a nut” or “My Ex-boyfriend is a Pod Person.” Either way, I’ll get there.

I added a few more things to the Teenage Drama folder yesterday. And it felt good to send it there in my head, too.

MF contacted me yet again the other day. This time it was via Gmail chat, which happened a week ago too. But if you remember from that post, it wasn’t a big deal.

This one wasn’t either. But it was the spark that I needed to make a decision.

The decision to shoot off this email and feel REALLY great about it…(click on it for biggerness)

word? really?

This email now resides in the Teenage Drama folder.

I find it interesting how we compartmentalize our lives. It relieves stress for me to organize, clean, and find places for things to live (either in my head or on my desk). You may think that I’ve got too time on my hands taking screenshots of conversations and emails, painting out real names and then writing an entire post about it. Why keep the email? Why not just delete it. Putting it in the Teenage Drama folder feels like deleting it to me. It helps me realize that this shit is so meaningless and temporary, but I still need to acknowledge it. I tag it, code it, and file it away just in case Cold Case Files needs evidence to go with my missing persons report.

Writing about things that confuse or bother me helps me compartmentalize. It’s another way of processing it all. I took a class in my undergrad days called Storytelling and the entire premise was how storytelling is physically and mentally healing. Studies show that telling a story (not a list format of events, but a coherent story) is one of the most healing activities for the mind in regards to traumatic or depressing events.

I have neglected my storytelling side for far too long. I used to write poetry when I was younger, and in high school I was the editor of our newspaper. I wrote album and movie reviews for the Tulsa World and then at the University of Oklahoma I wrote for the student newspaper for awhile. I desperately missed it after I quit (I quit because I didn’t want to sell my soul…or at least, I wanted more money for it). So when I changed my major from journalism to film and video studies, I felt free. I could tell stories with words AND pictures. Perfect.

Just one problem…

I forgot about my writer self. For some reason I didn’t feel worthy of writing. I thought if I wasn’t writing for somebody then it wasn’t worth much. And I guess I still feel that way, which is why I’m talking to you. I feel the best when I am connecting with people, not just with a piece of paper in a book that sits on my shelf. Writing and then knowing someone, somewhere may read it and relate to my words gives me extreme happiness.

Because no one is alone. X-Men taught us that (the new one is meh).

So, after shooting off the above email I’m hoping that dear god THIS time it will get through to MF. I don’t want to engage in any behavior with him. He is toxic. He is manipulative. He is a narcissist. He is not someone I would be proud to call my friend. He is a mind fuck.

word,

25swf

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