“This my trash, this my tome…this my blood, this my bone.”

I find it this online “journaling” thing somewhat fascinating. I spend a shit-ton of time in my head; I always have. I am constantly thinking, analyzing every little thing, turning things over in my mind. (I’m extremely deliberate, until I’m not. Thank you, bipolar impulsiveness.) Anyhow, I am finding that pouring some of these thoughts out onto this social media platform isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Instead, it is a release of sorts, because the posts contain things that I would not talk about with anyone, at least not without broaching the topic in some way that felt safe, which would not be talking. (Maybe carrier pigeon? Emoji? Miming?) Granted, I’m just getting started, and I’ve been keeping it pretty tame, but still, I know there are blogs where people share much more – deeper and traumatic things. I applaud those people.

I have only published the “journal,” in the case that someone else has felt the same way about some aspect of their experience and possibly feels bad about it. It’s important to realize you aren’t the only one to feel this way. It helped that it’s easier putting these things out there, knowing that the readers are total strangers. I wanted to do it, without anyone knowing who I am. This would allow me to say whatever I needed or wanted to and not worry about what the reader would think about me. They wouldn’t know me, so their judgment would not matter. It’s not like I’ll experience any loss with this endeavor.

Am I willing to bet on that?

There is one person who might read this who knows my identity. Someone who actually knows me. It’s neither the social media nor the biblical version of “knowing” me either, with this person. (Haha. Those are two extremes, eh?) We are actual friends. I do value this person. A lot.

I had vacillated with regard to giving this friend access to what will come to be, in some ways, a baring of my soul. (Boy, that sounded dramatic.) I had jokingly referred her to a post that I had written prior to a recent discussion we had about the same topic, not knowing if she would actually read it. She did. (and subscribed, which was unexpected) There is kind of intimacy to this, if someone who actually knows me reads this stuff – these uncensored “musings” that I haven’t shared with any of my few close friends. (Friends, that’s another post in itself.) In this instance, sharing with this friend, well, that’s ok. I’m still exploring why it’s ok, and then, I’m trying to figure out why it matters in the first place. (Fuck. See, always thinking.)

Maybe it goes back to that bet above. Maybe not.

Maybe I’m better off to just stop thinking.

 

Title taken from the lyrics of Spirit Cold by Tall Heights, a current favorite.

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