As the titles of this blog and post state – I am consumed. But that’s just poetic for obsessed.
“I awake consumed with thoughts of you¹” sounds much better than “I’m obsessed with you.”
I’m consumed, or shall we say, passionate about, journaling. I’ve journaled in physical journals since 2001 when I got one for Christmas from a friend. She doesn’t even know what kind of a monster she created. Some day when I write my novel or become a famous blogger, I’ll make sure to send her a royalty check.
Since that first journal, I’ve filled up about 15 of them. I couldn’t have started at a better time, really. In 2001, I was in middle school. Need I say more? Not particularly. I went back and read through every single journal before I started the one on which I’m currently working. Let’s just say that most of the tears were of happiness, but most of the laughter was of embarassment.
What I want to say is that, I am a total rambler as well as procrastinator. Again, needless to say, as it is evident from this post. Does it have a real direction? It’s a bit of a mystery, isn’t it? It could be exciting for you then.
Again I attempt to make my point – but that’s the thing, sometimes I never arrive at one. That’s what’s so free about journaling/blogging: it’s a release of thought, a stream of consciousness that may be neverending. And yet, it’s healing.
I like to think of journaling as a form of talking to myself. I like even more to think of talking to myself as a form of client-centered therapy. I just keep writing, internally urging myself along with implied questions, until finally my hand writes the right thing. That’s what I’m feeling, that’s why I feel this way. It’s like a less dramatic, less exciting form of House’s epiphany or Sherlock’s deduction. Yet, still just as satisfying.
For example, last May, my boyfriend came to me to let me know he was not in love with me, nor did he think he ever wanted to get married or have children. I could see that he was being conscientious, he didn’t want to waste my time because he knew that I wanted to get married and have kids; however, that didn’t make it any less difficult to swallow: I probably would have married him.
A couple months later, I was thinking about it and decided to journal – I had far too many thoughts running through my mind and just needed to put them somewhere else. After writing for ten minutes or so about what I want from love, what I want in a man, what I’ve had, what would make me happy, a wash of intelligibility came over me. I want A, I had B – why am I sad about losing something that wasn’t exactly what I want, maybe even need? Close, but not close enough. In that moment, I went from distress to elation. The obviousness was astounding, but it was like I had never thought of it that way until just then. This is what I want, so I need to focus on getting it. Hello. and duh.
Those are the situations that keep me journaling. Those are the client-centered therapy sessions that I’ll fully endorse. It’s empowering to work through such a personal problem and come out in the sunshine on the other side.
Not everyone gets it, though.
Anyway, consumed. I’m consumed with writing, and I’m also consumed with London. Growing up, I was a fan of most things British/English. The music, the humor, the cars, the people. Finally, I had my chance to visit Mother England. It has been very difficult to describe to people how at-home I felt walking those streets. It was as though I belonged there. So much so, that when I returned home, I was London-sick for about two weeks. I felt out of place in my own apartment, my own hometown. I love Omaha, but London just felt so right.
So right, that I’m in the process of applying for a visitor’s visa to go back for six months (and hopefully longer, serendipity permitting).
Part of the purpose of this blog is to document my experiences with the process. Not so much instructional as reactionary, I think. I’ve filled out the app about 95%, I’m working on getting a letter from my university that states I will continue my education online (which is what I’m doing now), and my next step will be to get a letter from my employer stating my leave of absence (likely) without pay.
My goal is to jump the pond ‘fore the end of May, this year. It’s a bit daunting, but I’m so ready to be there. Every day since I’ve been back, I’ve awoken consumed with thoughts of London, of walking the streets, of exploring, of meeting people, and of embracing the culture. If I had a crush before, it’s a full-blown, soon-to-be-requited love affair now. I wasn’t born there, but I feel it’s where I belong.
This is one thing I will not procrastinate.
¹Napoléon, who wrote to his beloved Joséphine