It is very hard for me to write during this particular time in my life.
Some people are very private. They like to keep their problems to themselves. I am not some people.
Normally writing is cathartic. A weight gets lifted from my chest every time I hit “submit” and release my problems into the untouching arms of the internet.
Now things are different. I find myself with a new, conservative career. I also find myself with readers who actually know me, and even some who are trying to get to know me.
Don’t misunderstand me. My blog has never been a secret. I am not embarrassed by it. In fact, I have always been rather proud of it.
But recent events, recent “breaks”, recent feelings that I have shared, have had a backlash. This is not the first time. It is, however, the first time I’ve been selfless enough to care.
I don’t like hurting people. The sharpness of words can cut emotional wounds.
So what do I say? What can I write? How do I get my release?
Do I quit writing? Do I quit sharing? Do I write and not share? Do I only tell bubble-gum stories and leave the grittiness of feelings out of it?
Oh how I would love to write about a day of double betrayal, seeing my ex for the first time in public, and the excitement and sheer comedy of going on dates again.
I’m struggling to find a balance. Writing without posting doesn’t give me the same fix. I like to feel as if I have put myself out there and said what is in my heart. People can decide to like it, or they can decide not to. Either way, it is no longer bent up inside of me.
The problem lies in the fact that my stories involve others. They are not just about me.
I feel as though I need to have an alias or write a dating column for some small city where no one actually knows me. But then again, even if I was by some miracle able to do this, um, this is the internet and nothing stays secret for long.
So buttoned up I will be for now. At least about the juicy gossip that everyone wants to hear about. I’m sorry, but what else am I to do?