P[ublic] R[elations] As you are well aware, I love writing in my blog. It became for me this multi-faceted connector of life's elements, from my relationship with my own prides and neuroses to my relationships with my family and strangers. I loved being able to sit down, spout my thoughts on the screen, and then watch the public river sweep them over the pebbles until they resembled something I never even imagined they could be. A couple months ago something changed. My posts had been sputtering due to a lack of time and restlessness (we all know how assumptive the "unhappy artist" scenario can become). The last time I posted was April 4. My dedicated readers (thanks, Grammy) kept asking why I stopped writing. And I didn't really have an answer. Yes, when I started my new job in March I really needed the time to get established there, move into my new place, and reconfigure my life. However, I had been successful in this new scene for nearly 2 months now and still possessed no desire to funnel my words into the world. I blamed it on obsessive reading, which is true: I can't seem to gobble up enough books right now. But there was something going on a little deeper. After some consideration, I think it might be an issue of poor PR. While waiting for my computer to a bath courtesy of the Computer Geeks, I ran across an article in "Psychology Today" discussing the power of dialogue in overcoming or overwhelming a situation. The article stated that simply talking about a negative situation in one's life is helpful in making it seem less intense. The act of voicing one's worries revokes some of their overwhelming significance. Talking about something that you're unhappy about ("venting," if you will) is a great means for recognizing, validating, and then moving past it. Ask anyone who's spoken with a counselor, at a 12-step meeting, or over a mimosa at brunch, and they will probably concur. That's where the article took a turn. It stated that while talking about negatives mitigates their power, verbalizing exciting and positive elements of one's life can have the opposite effect. Talking about the newest accomplishment dis-empowers it in the same manner, meaning that it can seem less special and important. Apparently, keeping it quiet is like planning that surprise party for your friend where almost all of the excitement is in the build-up. Once the news finally springs, then it's out there, no longer warming in the oven of your soul. This fascinated me. I had spent the last year of my life telling everyone everything. I tried to tell anyone who would listen about how busy I was in attempt to assert my successes despite my faltering ego. Then, I told anyone who would listen about my eating disorder, "I feel" statements dotting my vocal canvas like clocks on a Dali painting. Every single time I told someone about my struggles I empowered myself to move past them. And every time I told someone about my successes, I felt a tinge of guilt, like I was trying to hide behind them. So blogging was an excellent function in the recovery process. No secrets, no hidden agendas. Just me and what I felt. Actually, me and the world and what I felt, if they would listen. Until I began to notice some corresponding implications in my PR activities. Like, when I made things really awkward (case in point: I told an entire crew of volunteers that I couldn't drink coffee because I have an anxiety disorder and it made me wacko. I swear I felt this collective thought cross their minds: "I saw you slugging the free coffee like Michael Phelps on Gatorade not even one hour ago...O, god"). Or when I told people what I felt and it happened to end with something like, "And that's why I don't like you right now." It all came to a hilt when I applied to the Peace Corps. A brief disclaimer: Yes, I am now going to tell you why I regret disclosing my Peace Corps application status, that I really wish I had kept it secret, and I am going to do so in a blog that will surely dismantle any secrecy that I still had on the topic. This is venting, it's getting out one of those negative things so that it will seem less important. Goodness forbid there be no method to my hypocrisy. Right now there's probably a 50/50 chance that I will make it through this next round of application approvals. I was accepted through the first application and interview with flying colors. I disclosed my eating disorder and time at ERC from the get-go. I, like my recruiter, felt like it was actually a differentiating factor that could help my candidacy (I'm obviously a driven person who cares). They asked me for a special medical review, where my former treatment team was required to describe my treatment and sign-off in support of my attendance. That's currently under review. It is likely that I won't be accepted. The problem was that when I very first started the process I forgot to set boundaries about who I wanted to know. All the sudden my grandparents were telling the neighbors that I WAS IN and they were congratulating me and asking WHEN I WAS GOING. In reality, I knew that I might have to come back to them four months later and say, "Oh, yah, I didn't actually get in because I went to the skinny/loony-bin a few months back...." That's not a conversation that I wanted to have and definitely not one a seasoned PR professional would ever place themselves in the position to take. So I drew back. I didn't want to keep divulging my innermost thoughts and then suffering the public consequences. I wanted to turn inside for a while, put a happy little calzone full of self-care and pride in my wood-fired oven and let it roast for a good, long time. And I didn't want to mop-up after my own PR disasters. It was like when all those little Disney stars finally get the memo to stop sending nudie pics, no matter how tight their new little boobies are. But I miss writing. I miss sitting in front of my computer and quietly funneling my thoughts into nearly-identifiable statements. I miss looking at the incidents in my life through a creative lens. And sometimes, I really miss being able to vent, because I can say things here that I could never say in the open air. The open page is just a little more conducive to rationality. And loonies like me benefit from some logic now and again. So, I'm back. I'm going to try to focus this blog on finding the best means to dissect my negatives and carefully convey my positives. I'm also going to try to bring less "me" and more "it" into it by illustrating low-brow ideas rather than focusing (wholly) on my own interpretations of them. This is a PR project, people. You're the P! Can you Relate?