So why am I putting this all out there? Why am I airing my dirty laundry for the world to see? When we take the trash out, don’t we put it in a bin with the lid shut so no one else can see our garbage? Yep, my mom taught me all of these things, and normally, I would agree. However, for this, I have to go against the norm. I am not doing this to insult or offend anyone. I am not doing this for ‘fame’ because, really, who am I? I don’t think I am going to have anyone really read this, but, as I said before, this is really for me.
This is about me owning my past, owning my choices and decisions I have made. Once I put it out there, I can’t deny it or take it back; if I don’t put it out there, I could easily slip back into denial. Maybe I am doing it because I am being selfish; I am lifting the weight, the burden, and just dispersing it among all the virtual people out there, so I don’t have to carry it all by myself (it’s getting pretty heavy). Maybe I am doing it so I don’t have to keep up appearances; I’m so tired of pretending it was all okay, it wasn’t.
I am putting it on the internet because maybe one person out there is going through what I went through. Maybe they will read it. And they will know… just know.
Perhaps I am publishing this for accountability. Or, it could be I am doing it as punishment. I might feel that I should be punished for the choices I made, for the things that happened, and this is how I am doing it, by shaming myself.
I’m normally a private person. People who know me won’t believe that, but I am. I let people know what I want them to know about me, hiding what I don’t want them to know, the ‘other’ me. Someone once told me that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, that from what they can see, I’m a good person. My reply, “Of course you would think that, I only post the positive things about me. I’m not going to post the bad!” If I give them so much fluff, or so much of the funny me, they won’t know there’s more to me.
Whatever the reason, it has to be done. I think getting it out there, putting it into the vortex of virtual space, I can own it, and … release it. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for. It’s part of my ‘process.’
I’m not expecting forgiveness. I don’t want platitudes. I just want to be free from all of this. Not owning it, not ‘voicing’ it, means I am still embarrassed and still ashamed of what happened. If I’m still ashamed, I’m not over it, those demons have not been conquered. I will slay the demons.