Hi.
Here’s the thing about having a blog that few people read that you know in real life… well, here’s the thing about my blog, of which few people read that I see on a semi-daily basis: there are things talked about that others might not want mentioned. I speak truth, brutal and clarifying at times. I bleed. I sweat. I scourge. I am me, on this nook of the internet.
This is my vessel of expression, my ventilation method, my manner in which to keep the demons from invading my afternoon walks and morning playgroup meetings. I write from the heart, my mind, my point of view. And I make no apologies for anything that I type, whether fuelled by rage, happiness, creativity or other, less common characteristics that make up my being.
Finding out something about yourself, about your relationship, because you chose to seek out my writings…well that sucks for you. I’d like to show sympathy to the committer, or the committee but that would be beyond my scope of reason. And my reason only extends as far as I can morally stretch it.
If people need to think that my emotional ramblings are symptomatic of their wish to no longer be my friend, then so be it. I’m not going to defend against that belief more than to say that I moved to make my life easier, to start without certain negative forces being a weight on my daily attempt for balance and health.
I choose to no longer play those games, hear those tales or watch my back. I cannot and will not be weighed down any longer by liars, alcoholics, emotional abusers, petty injustice bringers or really, anyone less moral than myself. [And I've got some pretty loose morals. So really, no high horse analogies are needed.]
I believe in the golden rule most highly: treat others as you want to be treated. But I also believe that some people will treat others as their accessories, as pieces of semi-worth, only brought out when the sun is shining and hidden in the back of a drawer at other times. I’ve been used, spoken of and treated as if a small, unintelligent, worthless human at times and I’m willing to hand it back out to those who would commit such offence.
I’m willing, in general, to stick up for a person being abused who feels too small to stick up for themselves. And I’m willing to do what I think is right, always.
And at times, what I thought was right meant venting my fury and keeping it under wraps from the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the sidewalk came to visit my blog.
Stop calling me. There’s nothing I can do for you. I won’t listen to you cry and feel sorry for you. I won’t be sympathetic that your relationship’s been effected by my blog. I won’t find a way to dig deeply into my heart, to try to make a silver lining where there is none.
I don’t want you in my life and you haven’t been, and besides the words I’ve heard from others, that’s meant a lot of peace for me. I don’t want to communicate with you and you can threaten to call the police about the ‘craziness’ that is on my blog if you like [do realize though that they will tell you there's nothing they can do and then hang up the phone and laugh at you], but realize this: I didn’t put all of your business out in the world, you did.
There was just one final person who seemed to not know about it.
Get some fucking help for yourself and take care of your goddamn family.
