Silence is not always golden!
I have been struggling to write this week's post and I’ve been sitting here getting more and more frustrated with myself as the week has gone on.
Staring at a blank, white page is something that I am fairly familiar with. Writer’s block generally rocks up when I am mentally exhausted.
So it comes as no surprise that it has reared its ugly bastard head when I’m in awkward burnout.
Technically that’s not a real thing but, I think it has the potential to be.
Do you ever get that?
Where you have so much awkwardness in your body, that wrestling with it just exhausts you?
It isn’t even like I’ve had a particularly awkward week, just that my tolerance for it is low as fuck.
After deleting most of my thoughts and judging the rest I have ditched two topics after flitting back and forth, agonising over them.
This is the thing about being awkward, your brain just fights you on everything: confidence, ideas, creativity.
And sometimes, you just can’t keep up with it.
I guess you could argue “well, this is just similar to social exhaustion or anxious exhaustion”... but it really isn’t.
Social exhaustion comes from spending your social battery interacting with people.
Anxious exhaustion is from trying to manage stress or worry…or judgment.
Awkward exhaustion comes from managing the awkwardness itself.
Now, I don’t know about anyone else but silence seems to be extremely loud and disgustingly uncomfortable when my awkward management light is on.
As an introvert, silence when I am in solitude is well cozy. Brew in hand, a good book, low lighting, bliss.
Silence in social situations when the tank is dangerously near empty…hell. Loud as fuck. Nails on a chalk board, brakes screeching.
Usually, I don’t ever feel like I have to fill pockets of silence but in those moments, I do.
If you are in them, do you ever find yourself saying the most random shit just to fill the air with something?
Like a random fact? “Did you know that an octopus may eat itself when stressed?”
Also, those are times when I hate to admit it, I resort to small talk.
My whole body feels like it is contorting itself inwards but it’s too late, I’m already telling Carol,
I don’t even know a fucking Carol but I’m using another name for legal reasons
“I think it’s been so unusual that it isn’t overly cold for this time of year and I haven’t once had to pull my thermals on”
...because apparently I’m in my 70’s, what the fuck? I don’t even own thermals.
That’s a lie.
The constant awkward dialogue you have running in your head is what drains you. The silence in those drained moments are amplified because they act as a mirror.
It literally shows us our awkwardness.
Ta Da Mother Fucker!
In these moments, a small pause feels like a tumbleweed moment. A tumbleweed moment turns into an existential crisis.
Some weeks I am going to write because I am inspired and others because I am tired.
Whether it is an interesting read or not is another story.
But, by the end of this post I’m very near to eating myself.
Wait no, that sounds wrong.
Fucking octopus!
X
I have been struggling to write this week's post and I’ve been sitting here getting more and more frustrated with myself as the week has gone on.
Staring at a blank, white page is something that I am fairly familiar with. Writer’s block generally rocks up when I am mentally exhausted.
So it comes as no surprise that it has reared its ugly bastard head when I’m in awkward burnout.
Technically that’s not a real thing but, I think it has the potential to be.
Do you ever get that?
Where you have so much awkwardness in your body, that wrestling with it just exhausts you?
It isn’t even like I’ve had a particularly awkward week, just that my tolerance for it is low as fuck.
After deleting most of my thoughts and judging the rest I have ditched two topics after flitting back and forth, agonising over them.
This is the thing about being awkward, your brain just fights you on everything: confidence, ideas, creativity.
And sometimes, you just can’t keep up with it.
I guess you could argue “well, this is just similar to social exhaustion or anxious exhaustion”... but it really isn’t.
Social exhaustion comes from spending your social battery interacting with people.
Anxious exhaustion is from trying to manage stress or worry…or judgment.
Awkward exhaustion comes from managing the awkwardness itself.
Now, I don’t know about anyone else but silence seems to be extremely loud and disgustingly uncomfortable when my awkward management light is on.
As an introvert, silence when I am in solitude is well cozy. Brew in hand, a good book, low lighting, bliss.
Silence in social situations when the tank is dangerously near empty…hell. Loud as fuck. Nails on a chalk board, brakes screeching.
Usually, I don’t ever feel like I have to fill pockets of silence but in those moments, I do.
If you are in them, do you ever find yourself saying the most random shit just to fill the air with something?
Like a random fact? “Did you know that an octopus may eat itself when stressed?”
Also, those are times when I hate to admit it, I resort to small talk.
My whole body feels like it is contorting itself inwards but it’s too late, I’m already telling Carol,
I don’t even know a fucking Carol but I’m using another name because, legal reasons .
“I think it’s been so unusual that it isn’t overly cold for this time of year and I haven’t once had to pull my thermals on”
...because apparently I’m in my 70’s, what the fuck? I don’t even own thermals.
That’s a lie.
The constant awkward dialogue you have running in your head is what drains you. The silence in those drained moments are amplified because they act as a mirror.
It literally shows us our awkwardness.
Ta Da Mother Fucker!
In these moments, a small pause feels like a tumbleweed moment. A tumbleweed moment then turns into an existential crisis.
I guess some weeks I am going to write because I am inspired and others because I am tired.
Whether it is an interesting read or not is another story.
As I’m reaching the end of this post I’m not far off eating myself.
Wait no, that sounds wrong.
Fucking octopus!
X