I sat down to write a blog post night before last.
Instead, I ended up purging my emotional guts in 3 typed and single space pages and then sent them to a friend who, in his infinite wisdom, didn't respond. He, I'm sure, just archived it under the label "Jane Crazy" aka "Words to Throw Back at Jane When She's Being Crazy". I wasn't realistically crazy at the time of the writing and have no desire to take back any of the things I said about myself which is why it is better filed under the latter tag even if the length of said tag is ridiculous.
I was hopeful that, after vomiting all over just one trusted person, the floodgates would be opened and I'd be able to write here again. I haven't been experiencing writer's block per se. Just...
There's such a thing as transparency and then there is plain tomfoolery. I've walked that line often enough I should be able to recognize the difference immediately. That line between what is uncomfortable - but beneficial - to disclose...the kind of thing that connects me to someone else reading...and what is disastrous, the rippling effects of damaged relationships felt for literary miles, to discuss and open up to comment.
I feel as though I've been skirting that line every time I sit down to write. The topics at the forefront of my mind squeezing ever tighter around my brain and my heart, closing me off from what's really important, refusing to let them out...let them go. So I just didn't write. Much.
I'd start a post. Stop. Delete. Or just save to draft. I've got at least 20 of those drafts taunting me now. Some are good! Some are relevant, timely social commentaries. Some are homages to lost loves whose ghosts I hold particularly close to me during this time of year...Andy, whose birthday fell on Thanksgiving this year, and Sarah Grace whose 9th birthday would have been Monday just past. But I couldn't bring myself to finish them while these other things weighed so heavily on my chest.
Those things that shall not be named here now.
So I sat down to write a blog post. And, instead, I puked my emotional guts out onto one person I thought could handle what I had to say. I felt better. More clear-minded. And I had a direction which led to a few epiphanies which will, in turn, lead to conversations I know I must have...even though I don't want to.
And then I can say what I want to say here.