I have for some time kept a private blog where I write to my daughter. Oh, it is not shared with her. The words are meant for her, directed at her, but I dont share them. Its like my dumping ground. When I am upset and angry or hurt by her, I vent there.
I hadnt done it in a few months. Written there, that is. I read it today. Ouch. Wow. I can be seriously pissed off and bitchy. LOL. I was amused in an odd sort of way at the anger in my words. Very glad I am putting them THERE and not directing them towards her. I suppose that shows some growth and maturity on my part.
I also made another blog. It will be for password protected entries. There has been many times I wanted to share things with many of my readers but I hold back. I am afraid to write certain things. To be THAT transparent (and I am pretty transparent).
I am afraid to write certain aspects of my story due to fear that my daughter, her adoptive parents, her father, his wife, even my hsuband might read them. Thats awful, huh? That I still feel like I must hide me, filter my voice, to protect the false reality and feelings of others involved in this trauma of mine?
Its just that there is SO much to my story. So much that I dont write because I dont want her, or them to find out about it here. On the net. In a public forum. I want them to ask me. To care. To inquire. But they dont. So I keep it to myself to protect their feelings. Something oddly twisted there, no?
Like I know several people IRL who read there. But they NEVER comment to me in person. Once in a while a member of my family will post a snide comment under a silly ID. Or they will make a rude comment in person that is clearly mocking the words I have shared here. I recently had an argument with a family member about something that clearly was wrong to me. Something that did not make sense. Their sarcastic response was to quote, verbatim, words from my blog. The blog they have never commented on or discussed in IRL. Really helpful for our relationship, right?
I greatly respect my dear friends in Vienna or Cologne, who do read here and then write me privately and say ‘Woah, Suz, I had no idea. Thank you for sharing." Or they ask questions. That is decent. That is friendship and relationship building. But to lurk and sneak and pretend you dont when you know me face to face?
Any wonder why I am afraid to write the real juicy stuff? I fully intend to write my entire story some day. Even consider getting it published. Self published if I must. Refer to my earlier post looking for an ilustrator. But that day is not yet here. Its coming. I can feel it. When I think about being really transparent, I feel less and less anxious. Its like my strength is building.
My approach to more challenging posts will be to post a link here to the password protected blog. If you are itnerested, you can write me and I can provide a password. I welcome commenatry and insight from the Joys, Possums, Beccas, Margies, and others of the world. So many of you have helped me so much. Sharing your stories, you feelings, your support.
But yeah, look for the random links to password protected posts. I hope you will consider commenting and wont mind the extra step.
Back to "my patchwork quilt of a life and the memories embroidered on my soul. "