Excavating
There's something to be said about blogs, on line diaries and other places one can pour out their thoughts with some degree of anonymity, yet still be able to get feedback, support, encouragement and empathy from strangers. Strangers who often become friends. Friends we may never meet in person, but friends all the same.
I didn't expect an audience when I first started typing. I liked the idea of being able to say what I think and what I feel and be completely me, without hinderance, without second guessing myself, without fear of some sort of retribution for things I may have said and done. But, in various ways, people find us, or perhaps are drawn to us, because they see a part of themselves in what someone else writes. Whether they like what they see or not, is not the point. It's the fact that someone, somewhere in the world has been through something similar to ourselves and, in a little way, we feel that maybe we're not so small and alone after all.
I haven't held back on what I've wanted to say. This is me. Take it or leave it. There are things I so desperately need to say, to get out of my head. The thoughts are there. But they're so mixed up, jumbled and disjointed that, right now, I'm unable to formulate them into anything that will make sense. And I need it to make sense.
My past is not who I am now. I've seen and done things I shouldn't have. I've been through some things that I still can't talk about. I tell people who need to know. That's it. Strange as it sounds, there are words I cannot use in my vocabulary, for the fear of the emotions and the memories they stir in me. I walk out of the lounge if certain scenes are playing on the tv and I can't change the channel. I don't find certain jokes funny. I'm told I'm too serious at times. Maybe I am. But some things just aren't funny - under any circumstance.
So this week, R and EJ both posted about situations that hit very close to home with me. There are others I've read too, including Sandy and Heidi. Reading these helps. It forces me to think about things I don't want to face. It forces me to look at why I'm not ready to deal with things.
I hate knives. But it's made me admit that I like the feeling of having a knife in my hand. No, not to harm myself. I turned off that road a long time ago. It's the empowerment and finally knowing I can look after myself if I need to. Not just with a knife. That's just a representation.
Thank you to everyone who comes here to read what I say. And thank you to those who continue to say what is true for them, for allowing the rest of us to feel more 'normal' and less isolated. I know, in time, I'll be ready to say what I need to say.
This blog is all me and I show different layers at different times. Some are just more difficult to reach than others.
I didn't expect an audience when I first started typing. I liked the idea of being able to say what I think and what I feel and be completely me, without hinderance, without second guessing myself, without fear of some sort of retribution for things I may have said and done. But, in various ways, people find us, or perhaps are drawn to us, because they see a part of themselves in what someone else writes. Whether they like what they see or not, is not the point. It's the fact that someone, somewhere in the world has been through something similar to ourselves and, in a little way, we feel that maybe we're not so small and alone after all.
I haven't held back on what I've wanted to say. This is me. Take it or leave it. There are things I so desperately need to say, to get out of my head. The thoughts are there. But they're so mixed up, jumbled and disjointed that, right now, I'm unable to formulate them into anything that will make sense. And I need it to make sense.
My past is not who I am now. I've seen and done things I shouldn't have. I've been through some things that I still can't talk about. I tell people who need to know. That's it. Strange as it sounds, there are words I cannot use in my vocabulary, for the fear of the emotions and the memories they stir in me. I walk out of the lounge if certain scenes are playing on the tv and I can't change the channel. I don't find certain jokes funny. I'm told I'm too serious at times. Maybe I am. But some things just aren't funny - under any circumstance.
So this week, R and EJ both posted about situations that hit very close to home with me. There are others I've read too, including Sandy and Heidi. Reading these helps. It forces me to think about things I don't want to face. It forces me to look at why I'm not ready to deal with things.
I hate knives. But it's made me admit that I like the feeling of having a knife in my hand. No, not to harm myself. I turned off that road a long time ago. It's the empowerment and finally knowing I can look after myself if I need to. Not just with a knife. That's just a representation.
Thank you to everyone who comes here to read what I say. And thank you to those who continue to say what is true for them, for allowing the rest of us to feel more 'normal' and less isolated. I know, in time, I'll be ready to say what I need to say.
This blog is all me and I show different layers at different times. Some are just more difficult to reach than others.
posted by E in Oz at 9:44 am
these thoughts escaped my brain at 9:44 am
3 Comments:
You know me...product of waaay too much therapy that didn't do much good, lol.
But I do post for me, not for my readers. The post you're referring to was an attempt to take back a little piece of me from the dark place that it's been lurking.
Tired of renting space in my head to the slime of humanity.
When you're ready, at least you know you have a place where you can get it out.
And in the meantime, you know you've got an unlimited supply of hugs and support coming to you from Cali.
hugs,
R
Sometimes I feel I've said too much. Do you ever feel that? Sometimes I ask myself "Have I given too much of myself away?" It sometimes scares me when I finish publishing a post and wonder if that was truly OK to post. What amazes me is that I get responses and it makes me feel better. Sometimes I feel it benefits someone else to read something put in a way that you haven't thought of. And make a connection.. as I have with so many other blogers out there. I truly feel like I'm part of a community now. Feels good.
I'm finally getting caught up in blog-world...I'm glad cuz I wouldn't have wanted to miss this post. I love coming here to visit you...and I agree - blog-world friendships are very real to me...I have come to accept my own vulnerability so much more since blogging. I'm so glad you are exactly who you are. (And that you've got the meds you need to heal your body.) (((hugs)))
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