Wow I really wish I’d discovered blogging a long time ago. But then I was forced to live a very secluded and private life. I was taught not to let anyone actually see your true heart because if they did they would not like you.
Blogging for me is simply an outlet for emotion and thoughts. It is a way to find release. And amazingly it works. I can be so overcome with whatever and dump it here and it all seems to be ok again. I really don’t need anyone to like or comment on it. However it does my heart good to see someone actually took time to visit and respond.
When I was 17 or 18 I began a journal. I’d sit for hours on end and write and write being totally transparent unloading all my chaos onto paper. I wrote about everything and anything. It was so therapeutic and such a release. Then one day I got concerned. What if something happened to me and someone read what I had written. I actually wrote about real people and real events. I would never want anyone to see it! So I destroyed it.
Years later I regretted doing that. If I had only kept the journal I would be able to understand so much about me that I simply don’t understand right now. You see I had an accident that caused me to lose blocks of memory. Things just do not make sense sometimes. I am trying to put the puzzle back together.
So I write now and allow the world to see it because I do not have to hide anymore. Well actually I am hiding. No one know who I am and it gives me liberty to be and express. Well really no one know who I am in real life either. Ironic really I hide virtually and in reality! But the truth is I don’t have to hide anymore. I am safe now. I can live now.
Funny from this blog, not just this page but the whole blog, you’d think I was a very depressed person but in reality I am not at all. I am always smiling, laughing and joyful. I am always engaging in conversation with total strangers. I am always helping people and reaching out to others even though I am new to this part of the world. I am courageous, adventurous and outgoing. People always tell me and I quote, “with your personality you shouldn’t have any problem . . .”
But in reality all the abuse I have endured has caused me to be the opposite of what I appear. So maybe I am that fragile girl, that fragile china doll that is easily broken. Maybe I am not what I think I am. Maybe I should called “Tigger” or “Eeyore” after all. I just smiled at myself.