Feeling free and spiritually unfettered right now.
How exhausting to dredge up past stories, past struggles. I needed to express them, and more significantly, I needed to express them publicly. It feels strange, though, airing out the ugly pockets and flinging the dust and decayed bits into the ether for all to see. In my reading of late, I'm learning that it doesn't behoove me to define myself by the stories of my past or my rose-tinted plans for a better, prettier future me. Writing these things -- these creeping, shameful things -- has wrested from them their power over me. I am exhausted and trembling, but I feel an abiding sense of peace.
I have some idea of who reads this blog, but there are some readers whom I've never met (hello to you, dear people). Sometimes I pause before publishing a post, considering my audience like a good little Composition instructor. What will people think of me? That question has the power to stop me in my tracks. But I press "Publish" anyway. It strikes me that writing openly and without censure is the only sane way to rid myself of the debilitating fear of exposure and criticism.
To those of you reading: I appreciate that you're still here.