I am looking for a pat on the back, a medal, or even just a nod and a wink thrown into my direction because i DID NOT use my blog to vent my fury. I didn't do it. I'm so proud of me. There, i will give myself all the congratulations.
Journals I wrote in Jr. High live in my storage area.. I still have many of the notes that used to be passed in the hallway, although i don't think I can actually unfold any without them falling apart. I sometimes ponder trashing them. I mean really, why am i holding on to this stuff? I'm not a hoarder- i'm actually a huge "throw it away" girl and i purge my closets and drawers at least once a year so WHY does the idea of throwing these things away give me hives?
Because it is documentation of my history, basically. So much has been lost or destroyed over my lifetime of moving around but THIS box has never been defiled. I have since added journals i kept in my adult life that i would pour my heart into. That came to a crashing halt when my ex decided to snoop and then judge. I remember feeling like my skin had been ripped off and my soul had been found wanting. It hurt. It hurt in ways i can't explain unless you too pour you private musings into a book you never planned on sharing.
Not only would i not write but the thought of writing would cause me literal panic.
Years later, after i left the ex (there's a shocker eh?) I began blogging. Back then it wasn't what it is now- no one was getting paid to my knowledge. It was more of an expansion pack for chat rooms. What led me there was the frustration of any real content IN chat rooms where there always seemed to be 12 year old boys ( or men acting like 12 year old boys). Don't forget, chat was where it was at then. Anyways, i hated the random pointlessness of most of it- or the repetitive nature of what i would share with anyone new. So I started blogging. "Please refer to section 11.08 for reasons why i will not tell you what color my underwear is".........you know.
This type of writing was therapeutic. Over time I met a great bunch of people from all over the country simply because we followed each others blogs and found experiences in common. I guess you could say it was a support group because we really did support each other- and call bullshit when needed.
One of my close friends who lives about 10 minutes from me now was found by blogging. One was a man who lived in Oklahoma who lived on a large piece of property were he fixed motorcycles for a living and grew huge gardens of veggies. He would play in a band on the weekends- and hang out the with guys at his shop during the week. We kept in touch long after I stopped blogging (thank you facebook) and when he died I felt as if I had lost a dear friend, just as if we had known each other "in real time". Now i visit his page instead of his grave. How i ever would have met him otherwise is the great mystery, and one of the reasons i've missed blogging. Imagine if i had never met Cindy, or Dub?
The majority of my entries were very personal although i was smart enough to remain vague on the actual players in my life. If it pissed me off you would see it in my blog that day. If I was sad (at one point dangerously sad) you would see it in my blog. It helped me get through a pretty rough patch in my life that i didn't recognize at the time as "tilled soil" for new growth. And when i didn't need it anymore, i stopped.
Because this form of communication has changed so much, and because i did learn a few hard lessons about sharing too much, I find myself a bit gun shy getting started again. And a little disconnected. I'm not a writer, i don't do it for a living and i wouldn't ever want to be paid to do it. I am pretty good at putting my feelings into words though.....so that balance is what i'm still looking for.
I was extremely self righteous and pissed off the other day and it took all my self control not to lay it out nice and clean here in writing. And then i would have felt bad after i cooled off. Honestly i'm still pretty bent but I can see straight again so THAT part is good. It really does take quite a bit to get me into a fury but once i'm there..........holy shit. I don't even know me. I do have my triggers- and some are very necessary. That's all I really need to say about that.
and that's why i'd like my medal now. please and thank you.
Journals I wrote in Jr. High live in my storage area.. I still have many of the notes that used to be passed in the hallway, although i don't think I can actually unfold any without them falling apart. I sometimes ponder trashing them. I mean really, why am i holding on to this stuff? I'm not a hoarder- i'm actually a huge "throw it away" girl and i purge my closets and drawers at least once a year so WHY does the idea of throwing these things away give me hives?
Because it is documentation of my history, basically. So much has been lost or destroyed over my lifetime of moving around but THIS box has never been defiled. I have since added journals i kept in my adult life that i would pour my heart into. That came to a crashing halt when my ex decided to snoop and then judge. I remember feeling like my skin had been ripped off and my soul had been found wanting. It hurt. It hurt in ways i can't explain unless you too pour you private musings into a book you never planned on sharing.
Not only would i not write but the thought of writing would cause me literal panic.
Years later, after i left the ex (there's a shocker eh?) I began blogging. Back then it wasn't what it is now- no one was getting paid to my knowledge. It was more of an expansion pack for chat rooms. What led me there was the frustration of any real content IN chat rooms where there always seemed to be 12 year old boys ( or men acting like 12 year old boys). Don't forget, chat was where it was at then. Anyways, i hated the random pointlessness of most of it- or the repetitive nature of what i would share with anyone new. So I started blogging. "Please refer to section 11.08 for reasons why i will not tell you what color my underwear is".........you know.
This type of writing was therapeutic. Over time I met a great bunch of people from all over the country simply because we followed each others blogs and found experiences in common. I guess you could say it was a support group because we really did support each other- and call bullshit when needed.
One of my close friends who lives about 10 minutes from me now was found by blogging. One was a man who lived in Oklahoma who lived on a large piece of property were he fixed motorcycles for a living and grew huge gardens of veggies. He would play in a band on the weekends- and hang out the with guys at his shop during the week. We kept in touch long after I stopped blogging (thank you facebook) and when he died I felt as if I had lost a dear friend, just as if we had known each other "in real time". Now i visit his page instead of his grave. How i ever would have met him otherwise is the great mystery, and one of the reasons i've missed blogging. Imagine if i had never met Cindy, or Dub?
The majority of my entries were very personal although i was smart enough to remain vague on the actual players in my life. If it pissed me off you would see it in my blog that day. If I was sad (at one point dangerously sad) you would see it in my blog. It helped me get through a pretty rough patch in my life that i didn't recognize at the time as "tilled soil" for new growth. And when i didn't need it anymore, i stopped.
Because this form of communication has changed so much, and because i did learn a few hard lessons about sharing too much, I find myself a bit gun shy getting started again. And a little disconnected. I'm not a writer, i don't do it for a living and i wouldn't ever want to be paid to do it. I am pretty good at putting my feelings into words though.....so that balance is what i'm still looking for.
I was extremely self righteous and pissed off the other day and it took all my self control not to lay it out nice and clean here in writing. And then i would have felt bad after i cooled off. Honestly i'm still pretty bent but I can see straight again so THAT part is good. It really does take quite a bit to get me into a fury but once i'm there..........holy shit. I don't even know me. I do have my triggers- and some are very necessary. That's all I really need to say about that.
and that's why i'd like my medal now. please and thank you.
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