The popular sentiment is that today is a day to start over. It’s a day to start walking the path to a new and better you or to forgive yourself for the past years mistakes or not make the same ones or some such shit.
New Years has never really held any significance to me. What am I going to resolve to do today that I didn’t do with the last 365 opportunities I had? Absolutely nothing. When I’m backed into a corner or weary of where I’m at, I make the choice to change my life and it doesn’t matter if it’s a Monday or middle of the summer. I just do it…usually.
This past year has been different, though. It’s been tragic and terrifying and very, very lonely, and the obstacles that have landed in my life over the past month have really made me think long and hard about where I’m going. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve looked around during various years in my life and wondered, “How the hell did this happen?” I’m at that point, again, only this time, it’s with the absolute certainty that it wasn’t all my doing. My situation (and I mean generally and more recently. Some of it is 95% poor choices and 5% bad luck and some just 100% stupid decisions. I’m speaking in averages) is about 25 percent poor choices, 25 percent being too open, trusting and forgiving (which I guess would fall under ‘choices’) and about 50 percent ridiculously bad luck. My sister asked my Mom a couple of weeks ago if I have a black cloud that just follows me around from place to place and sometimes, I wonder, too. If I’m being tested, I’d like a potty break, please.
I know that in order to write freely and openly, I have to do it privately, but it still irks me. I’ve never been one to hide from the ugly truth about myself and I’m not about to start now. However, I owe it to Chris and my kids to not be so candid about everything that’s happened so I really feel I have no choice. So, why not just write a diary to myself? Well, I used to harp about how this blog was for me and blah blah blah and honestly, that’s bullshit. It is for me, but it’s for others, too. It’s for those who are in the same or similar situations who can read and not feel like they’re facing their demons alone. Nothing has given me more of a sense of purpose than A., being a mom and B., finding out that the things I write could actually help someone, even if it’s infrequent. So, I write and I don’t hide my warts or try to make anyone think I’m something I’m not. I have darkness in me, the capability to really hurt people that love me and trust me and to do so very callously and with disregard. I’m ashamed of that, but it’s true. I didn’t think I could do the things I’ve done, never would have imagined those traits to be hiding in me anywhere, but they were…and I use past tense because I know that I will never behave that way, again.
In order for me to let go or forgive and move on, I have to relive all of it and I guess I’ve chosen to do it here. When I’m writing it’s almost as if another part of me takes over and I can process thoughts and make observations in a way that I’m never able to do otherwise. It helps me to answer the questions about myself and dissect all that’s happened and the behavior that I’m afraid to face in any other setting.
Since I’ve decided to make this private, I do have one condition: I got a lot of really lovely emails from a lot of people about wanting to read my blog and I thank you. I read everything I get. I’m afraid that some of the illusions you have about me will be shattered, because I’m not holding anything back, and the admiration or respect or whatever you call it will turn to disgust. Please, please, just stop reading. No matter how much you want to, please don’t write me or comment about what a horrible person I am. I’m choosing to allow you in and that’s all I ask. I don’t have a thick skin and I never will. Some of the emails and comments I got after the last debacle devastated me, and I can still recite them, word for word. I have punished myself far more than anyone else ever could and I do so daily. Karma or God has also intervened and I have (and still am) paying dearly for the things I did and the people I hurt, so, please. No venom. I’ve never claimed to be pious or perfect, I’m far from it and I know this. I only share these things in the hopes that I can heal, maybe forgive myself and possibly help someone who might be facing the same painful situations, from either side of the table. Everyone copes differently and this is my coping mechanism. On a positive note, however, I don’t really drink anymore and I’m not on any mind altering medication so there won’t be any midnight posts that where I confess a bunch of crap that ends up being a drug-addled, patchwork delusion, thereby vilifying and effectively ostracizing myself from the blog advertising community. I found out that Chris had been going through my emails and deleting hateful ones and I don’t have the privilege of having someone look out for me, anymore, so please just accept that I’m a great, big pussy and your meanie emails will make me cry and tear my hair out so leave it at that.
With that said, I have an enormous list of email addresses to add to the reader list and no internet or computer at home so I’ll compile the list and privatize this as quickly as possible. And then I’ll take you into my life, again, and in doing so, expose myself to the very bone and the darkest places in my soul. Not much of it will be humorous, I’m afraid, and some of it will have to be guarded because … well, to put it simply, it could affect the legal outcome of an upcoming trial (and, no, I did not go to jail or set kittens on fire or kill a nun or anything like that. I wish it were so black and white).
After my Dad died, I tried several times to write and be light-hearted and it was forced and terrible. I simply wasn’t ready. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I am and I hope that, if nothing else, it serves some purpose for me or for someone.
I haven’t written anything (except some 2 page essays for my English class) so my writing has suffered but I think it will come back to me. I hope the ride is worth it…and I hope you wear your seatbelt. It’s really rough terrain.
Thank you for asking to come with me. I’m honored to have you along for the journey. And if you have to pee, go now, because I’m not stopping every five minutes.