I wasn't going to write tonight. I had nothing in mind that yearned to be put to paper. ...or to blog, as it were. Yet, here I am.
"The great thing about journals is that you can look back and see how stupid you were being."
I said that today, about my own journal, written right before I married ex-husband #2. I was so blind to my own observations; I wrote about red flags that I didn't recognize, even as I wrote them. I was so wrapped up in my own depression and the thick veil depression creates between me and reality, that I couldn't believe any thing bad about anyone else, least of all someone who showed me the cruel attention I thought I needed. Yet, here I am. I made it through to the other side, and am a better person for it.
Journals and integration - there's something to think about.
I'm becoming more integrated, as a person. This path I'm on is pulling my selves together; it's breaking down the walls between my internal, mental compartments. I'm referring to something different from feeling like I had a half-rotted side. I'm talking about how I perceived people and events, and about how I reacted to people and events. I acted differently around different people.
I used to write two different blogs, before I scrapped them both and started this one. It was the first step toward integrating my self, and seeking truth in my own heart.
One was written to be viewed by the public.
One was written to be anonymous, and private.
[As I wrote this post, I realized that by sharing these links, I'm also sharing more information about my child, whose gender is not hidden in those blogs. After some deliberation, I've decided that's ok. When I first started this blog, I was afraid of people knowing my thoughts, and of judging my child by extension. I no longer feel that way. The relief of not hiding has lifted many of my fears associated with being hidden - which was less obvious than it sounds.]
Neither was telling my entire story. My truth was still hidden away in the cobwebbed areas of my heart. It seemed very rational, at the time. The point of these blogs was to have a place to store my journaling efforts. The different tones of the two blogs was logical, in that one held more private information, which "shouldn't be made public." I struggled with that, even then. I was uncomfortable with the lines I had drawn, but more uncomfortable with moving the lines to expose more of my reality.
I started this blog when I finally began coming to terms with my history. The intent was - and remains - to look at myself without allowing masks, to clear away the cobwebs and become whole. This is where I come to think. This is where I process, and where I learn. This is where I heal.
Thank you, Archer, for forcing me to see myself; I would not have started this blog or this path, without you.
I had peered onto the path, timidly, when I did not have the courage to take a full step. But thanks to my journaling, parsed as it was, I can tell you when and how I took that first look. It's here, the day before my naming day with my coven - the anniversary of which is just around the corner.
Looking back, I'm grateful that I did write those blogs. They were basically true; I lied by omission, and felt that the things I kept hidden, either needed to be hidden or were irrelevant. And although those omissions represented a deeper divide in my self which needed to be healed, it was a step in the way that every journal represents a step - these blogs allow me to look back on myself, and see more clearly that which I have difficulty remembering.
And that's important.