Titles are Overrated

Hello, and welcome to Obesity and Malaise- a blog I started because I finally have feelings again. Some of you may remember my previous blog, Don’t Take Black Coffee for Granted or whatever it was, but this will be nothing like that. Mostly because I live in the Midwest now, and not some fantasy land that most people only dream about visiting. But it will also be different in the sense that I really have no direction. I just know that I have a lot to say. Normally, my preferred method of dealing with feelings is shoving them deep down inside me and pretending they don’t exist (not unlike the compost bin when I’m too lazy to take it out). My second preferred method is throwing on some Elliott Smith and knocking back a bottle of wine (or two) just to test fate. So that part hasn’t changed, I guess… Anyway, let’s do this thing.

Perhaps it would be pertinent to go over the thought behind the title of this “blog”. Typical of myself, I was drinking wine and shit-posting with friends on the internet, when a friend (sorry sphygs) described something in his home state of Ohio with the term ‘obesity and malaise’. It made me laugh hard enough that I immediately ran over to WordPress and registered a new blog under the name. I still had nothing to write about, though, and so here it sat.

It sat here until this morning, when something on a dumb social media website pushed me over my emotional edge. I found myself sitting in the kitchen thinking “I’m going to claw my fucking brains out if I don’t get these feelings out of my head.” It was then that I realized my heart and my brain had more in common with the title of this blog than I originally thought. To break it down:

Obesity (n): the condition of being fat or grossly overweight.

Malaise (n): a general feeling of discomfort, illness, or uneasiness whose exact cause is difficult to identify.

I’m a caretaker. I always have been. I have a big heart and a lot to give, often at the expense of my own happiness or sanity. It makes me happy to help, though, so I do. Therefore, I like to think that I have a big (obese? fat? phat?) heart at times. It also means that I am often expected to give and give and give without taking time for myself. Therein lies the problem- I don’t take care of myself as I should. I ignore things until things hurt me so much that I vomit them into a blog post.

As for the malaise? Well, some of you know me and what I’ve been dealing with during this last year. Though I definitely knew the source of my discomfort and uneasiness, it still works (because I say it does, damnit). The feeling didn’t end when I left though. Starting my life over, opening up my heart again, and having to think about myself has all been incredibly difficult. Because I am who I am, I’m still vulnerable to feeling things very intensely, even though I make a conscious effort to do the opposite. I may look like I’m fine on the outside, but my self-worth is at an all-time low.

And that’s fine.


And so, I suppose, this is what this blog might be about. We’re going to have some frank conversations about feels. Because when 13 years of on-again, off-again therapy just gives you a split personality disorder, it’s best to open that shit up to the internet. Because my heart is a sad spot in Ohio right now.

It’s fine.

Totally fine.


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