I’ve been a bit uneasy lately about this blog. I started it when in the deepest throes of depression I’d ever seen, and specifically shared it with my brother and my husband, because they’ve been my biggest supporters. But I’ve become aware that other people I know have been reading it, too, and have commented to me about it.
So my anxiety has become two-fold…I’m exposing myself to people I wouldn’t necessarily expose myself to and some of these people know some of the people I’ve mentioned in previous posts. Though I’ve changed or omitted names when I felt it necessary, some will be easily identifiable.
I really want to continue this blog. I’ve found it helpful in many ways. When I recently entertained the idea of drinking again, writing about some of the things I did while drunk proved sobering, pardon the pun. I drove drunk, wrecked my car, and attempted to have sex with a stranger. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, people?!
It’s taken me weeks to get here, but I’m suddenly feeling far more exposed than I had when I started. And I haven’t even talked about the abuse I experienced as a child. I want to talk about it, too. There’s a huge gap in my memory from that time. I remember bits and pieces, but have blocked the rest. I consider the events of that time period to be the key to why I am the way I am, so I feel there’s value in exploring it. I know that, sadly, there are many others who have been abused, too, so maybe my story will resonate with someone who went through the same thing. Yes, I’m seeing a therapist, and we’ve talked a bit about these issues. Maybe it’s time for me to go deeper with her.
In the meantime, maybe I’ll just write about my ex-boyfriends. I’m sure when I look at my history with men….my sad, comical history…I can squeak out more than one paragraph. Maybe even two.
And I’ll give every one of their full names, date of birth, email address, and secret hidden fears with which to torture them. Muwah-ha-ha.