In October 2023, I bought the domain for my writing.

The site, conceived during a euphoric high from having won 3rd place in the 1st round of a writing contest, remained untouched for weeks. It stayed packaged, fresh with high hopes, until my subsequent loss in November during the 2nd round. My excitement for the site dried up and became a proverbial paperweight in the back of my brain. I blamed work, the shorter days, the lack of Vitamin D. I’m sure some of that caused my waning interest.

I’m more sure my loss, which spurred an incessant mantra of “You fucking suck and your writing is dogshit” had more of an effect.

I found issues in everything I wrote. A piece was too much of anything—too whiny, too little, too boring. Most works were tossed, others were lost in a sea of misplaced notebooks and loose leaf papers that I couldn’t bring myself to care about. I wasn’t just unhappy with my work. I was angry with it.

I took a break, tried finding the answer in other aspects of life. I continued my therapy sessions, read self-help books, meditated, changed my diet, read my tarot cards, participated in community events, changed my diet again, had meaningful conversations about life with strangers. No matter what I tried, my Eat, Pray, Love season didn’t come. Then, one day, something did stick:

I realized I hated myself.

It wasn’t a huge revelation. I always kind of knew. I just tried not to think about it, pushed it to the back of my mind, loaded myself with work accomplishments and day-to-day maintenance. It worked until decent wasn’t enough to stave off the feelings of inadequacy, of contempt. I tried again. I swallowed down the pain with bite-sized, empty calorie victories—another chore, another extra hour of work—until I couldn’t stomach it any longer.

I was tired, tired of trying, tired of trying to prove that I have a right to exist to the me that found every reason I shouldn’t.

The same time of this nervous breakdown, I had already spent months trying to find a focus for the site. When it became apparent my interests were too varied, my expertise lacking in each, and that I sucked at many things equally, it only deepened my self-contempt. Why even attempt to blog? I couldn’t teach a skill, share a recipe, or divulge in some niche topic. At most, I could shoot the shit about random subjects, share a sub-par short story here and there, and that’s about it.

So, came the conception of “Local Average Woman Won’t Shut Up.”

A blog about me, the me I am always at odds-ends with, the me I wish would dissolve, and the me that is fighting to revolt against my mind and body. A site that exists so that I can allow myself a voice, give shape to understanding who I am, who I want to be, an appeal to prove to myself that I deserve to live.

To the people reading this, I can’t promise much other than you’ll be able to make a quick decision whether that this is for you or not. I’m not extraordinary, so I cannot promise extraordinary things. When I die, I don’t think I’ll leave much of an impact. The only thing I will leave are these words, that may or may not resonate with your own feelings in life.

Maybe it’ll make you think about the normalcy in your life. Maybe it’ll make you think about appreciating yourself more because, thank goodness, at least you’re not like this boring bitch. Or maybe you won’t think anything about this and just move on with your day. Whatever you end up thinking or not thinking, this blog will always just be about an average woman, doing and thinking average things, and never knowing when to shut up.