I’ve said it before, but I feel repeating myself is worth it. This blog makes me feel stripped bare. Like I’m standing naked in the middle of the street and strangers are looking at me.
I’m not overly worried about being judged, or hurt, but it’s definitely uncomfortable. That’s the point.
I’m ashamed of not being stronger, and of anyone seeing me while I’m trying to repair the cracks in my self esteem. It’s a battle in my head every day to hide my pain or expose myself in order to heal.
When I went to my very first therapy session as a teen the therapist told me that it’d be work. I could go every week and talk about what I wanted to talk about but nothing would ever change without concentrated effort on my part. I remember thinking “pfft, it’s work just to get up in the morning. What more does she want?”
She was of course right. We don’t mature, become who are meant to be, or change without some effort. It may not be conscious effort all the time, but there are times you have to decide to push your own comfort zones to get where you want to be.
I’m not stating anything here that most people don’t know. Life is about setting goals for yourself and pushing your own boundaries to get there. If you stayed the same person from beginning to end it’d be a very boring and superficial life you’d lead.
It wasn’t a stretch when based on my therapists suggestion I started blogging. I’ve always had an affinity for putting how I feel, or my thoughts, into written word. Ive been writing something, since I was old enough to write. I’ve had stories locked up in my head for years just waiting to get out. Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to put some of those “out there”. Until then, it’s a good form of therapy and expression for me.
However, this little corner of the internet that I call mine isn’t a cozy little reading nook by a fire with chamomile tea and a lap blanket. It’s more like holding my bare feet to a flame until I can’t stand it and being blistered for a bit afterwards. It makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, and open for judgment and ridicule.
In the end, I don’t care as much what others think if they’re strangers. It’s the ones that I know and love that matter. I’d hate for anyone to see me as anything but a chick who can handle the shit life throws at her. I’m F-ing Wonder Woman some days… and don’t anyone doubt it!
This space has its purpose for me. It’s important for my personal growth and mental health. Most of the time, it physically hurts to admit so much stuff here, but it’s important to honor the process required to become your most authentic self. It’s important to let down your guard, be vulnerable, admit to pain…
One day this blog may go back into dormancy because when I’m in a truly great place with life, and I have someone to tell my deep dark stuff to I don’t feel the need to unload here. I’ve had relationships before in which my trust and comfort levels were so high that I’d tell them anything and everything and still feel loved. That is always of course the end goal right?
Until I find that person again, or the words in my head slow down, it’s all just going here. I’m just going to continue to stand stark naked, in the middle of everything, till my vision is no longer blurry around the edges and everything become crystal clear. Or till I no longer feel slightly ashamed of people seeing me naked… my heart exposed to everyone.
****I’m not always sure going into a post how it’ll shape up, if it’ll make sense, or if it’ll be cohesive. Sometimes I think I miss the mark on a continuous dialogue or theme but… meh, F it. This blog isn’t set up to impress. It’s only meant to be real, and true, as far as it can be for me.
I’m not tech savvy. I don’t even try to be. I always left that part to others to be good at. My brother would chuckle at me if I told him I write a blog, about personal things, post it in a public place, and then try not to think about who reads it. I’m sure he’d show me how to track things and find out who’s really out there reading my rants. I don’t feel the need to know that stuff at the moment, and maybe not ever.
I guess I’m just glad someone is reading it. It’s like having an invisible friend, that sees you when no one else does.