…I find myself lurking around here, opening the page, closing it, saying, “Oh yeah, sometime soon, I’ll get back around to this” only to exit in a stuffed-down frustration because I really don’t know what to do with this blog. There’s so much frustration, people.
Why the blog-based turmoil? Because, really, I’d like to pour my heart out. Talk about my day-to day life, what’s got me up, down, stymied, challenged, what’s making me feel accomplished, etc., but I feel like I can’t find my own filter because there are certain audiences that I just don’t want to reach. And it’s the web. The internet is not a private place. And yeah, I know, there are journals for private musings, but I feel like shouting out some of this stuff for ears to hear (and yeah, I get that there is this thing called “therapy” for that, peeps), and, ugh, I just don’t know.
I remember when I was pretty young- maybe early teens, maybe just before, my Dad gave me this suitcase with a lock and a key. He said I could use it for things I wanted to keep hidden, keep private, keep away from prying eyes and hands that might snatch my ephemeric musings to hold against me later. He said I could consider it my safe place, since no one could get into it. And somewhat I did, and I loved him all the more for recognizing this need that I had, but I still had a filter. I was afraid someone would break open that lock, and draw out everything hidden. It wasn’t until I moved into my own place that i felt the need to edit my most private thoughts less, though by that time i’d become a pro at doing so, and the line between the real me and the outside me had become so blurred it was like a pretty lens: softening the edges and making a grainy image usable, even if it wasn’t clear.
I filter to this day, carefully, everything- sometimes with a fervent zeal and sometimes sloppily- and it makes me a little sad. These days, it makes me a little sick. I feel like someone had stuffed my throat with this dense weight that I am not swallowing well around. I get sad. I procrastinate, where I used to just do my best to make headway when a difficult decision comes along. I cry more often. I look at my little J and I hope that I can teach him that he always has a safe place to speak his truth, instead of constantly editing, throwing up boundaries and armor like an armadillo, hiding and cowering instead of just being able to make good emotional decisions. Somehow I’ve let myself get to be almost 40, and I haven’t set boundaries within myself that allow me to shrug all of these emotions off. How did that happen?
So, all of this dancing around is to let you know I’m still here, still trying to find my way to what I want from this blog. In the meantime, let me tell you: I never knew having a child would be this great. It’s a roller coaster ride full of highs and here he is almost a year old. I’m having a hard time knowing what to do with his first birthday- I want to celebrate it to the highest highs, but our financial situation and our family dynamic and geography has me feeling like we should keep it simple. Somehow, I need to make the day as special as possible for the most amazing person I have ever met, without breaking the bank or pissing anyone off. This falls on me. Which makes me procrastinate. And here I am, telling you. Here I am again, opening and closing this page in an effort to rid some of this weight in my chest. It may sound silly, but it kind of helps to be heard.