If I’m going to take this writing to Dreambook level (shout out Briana and Dr. Peter Borten and the Dragontree team!), then I have to find peace in knowing that friends and family may one day come across my blog. That is scary to me. What will they think? Will they judge? Well, duh, yes they’ll judge. How will they judge? Will it be in my favor? I can harness the power of the universe/pray/create an intention to determine what will happen. And it will be in my favor, because that’s what I want it to be. That’s what I dream it to be. So, I’m going to think positive. I think they’ll be blown away by my writing, by my honesty and authenticity. That’s what I hope everyone thinks when they read my writing – like, “Damn, this bitch is spilling the tea.”
It’s my own tea, but it does involve other people and they come up in my writing. I want to share my truth but I want to do it gently for the sake of the people I love. But ultimately, they aren’t the editor. Some people, like mother, is not going to be reflected as the best mother and woman. And I’m sharing intimate details of my own life, details that only my counselor knows. So it’s not like I’m trashing people without taking accountability for my mistakes. I’m not trashing people at all. I’m just being honest. I’m telling the story of my childhood, of my teenage years, of my twenties and thirties. So why do I feel guilty? This is my truth. This is my life experience. It’s going to be different for everyone, especially for people in the same family. How could I write about my life without writing about my sisters? Or my biological father? Or the nicest guy ever who works in the food court by my office (WHICH I gave him my blog address so maybe he’s reading now!)
Side note: this young gentleman has made a difference in my life. He is so positive and just himself. His personality shines through! And it’s not always easy to be positive. For me, I feel like it’s a big show, a performance I’m putting on. Much of the time I do feel positive and upbeat, mostly when I’m in the office. Just being around other people has been helping me with my mood and productivity, at work and at home. From the first day I met him I felt a kindred spirit of sorts. I felt like we connected. Then today we were talking and I told him about my blog and gave him the website address. I revealed a little about myself, that I don’t talk to my biological parents and I struggle with depression and anxiety. Okay, I see this guy for 2 minutes a day 2-3 days a week, and I’m telling him about my mental health challenges. But he has that kind of personality and aura – I just want to open up to him. And lawd do I need someone to listen.
It’s like Anne Lamott said, “If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” I have so many issues I want to tackle. I don’t even know where to begin. My counselor is helping to guide me. I don’t know what I would do without her. And I’ve been seeing her for a long time and she knows almost everything. I feel comfortable telling her most everything. I still have some icky things I don’t want to talk about yet. Maybe the day will come.
So what to write about first? And who will that story include?
We can start with the man I consider my dad being diagnosed with cancer just a couple weeks ago. He starts chemo and radiation in the next few weeks. The fact that I’m even typing those words – my dad has cancer – is just bizarre to me. He’s a strong guy, never gets sick, works when he is sick, never complains. And he has cancer. So I’m processing that new knowledge. I researched his cancer at work today (thanks PubMed!) and it’s not sounding good. My dad was very vague when he told me about his diagnosis. He was in good spirits with a positive outlook so I just went with it. But I’d like to know the facts now, everything about it actually. Cancer affects the entire family – I’ve heard that before and of course it didn’t hit me until well, it hit me. Facts help qualm my worries.
So this dad I speak of, well I hated him for a very long time. He was my step dad from the time I was two years old until whenever fourth grade is (I forget my age at that time). He saw I needed disclipline and guidance and tried to give it to me and I’d run to my mom and say, “Joel is being mean to me!” She took my side, they got in an argument, and it was a mess. I was left undisciplined and traumatized from another argument. When I was 6 or 7 I tried to make him drink water with dish soap in it. I think I might have been trying to poison him. In my kid mind I didn’t know the bubbles would give my plan away. After their divorce was of course the visitation – ugh, talk about a shit show. On the part of my mother. My dad made a good point when we were talking about this a few months ago because I asked him about it. I asked him if my mother made me go with him. And he said it was never a choice but he was happy for me to join. Anyways, the point my dad made was when my sisters were growing up, this was before the prevalence of cell phones. My dad lived across the city. My mother would make one of her idle threats to him – “You better have my kids back by 8 pm or I’m calling the police.” So then there’s my dad like wtf I’m about to drive across town – are the kids even going to be there? I remember once he was picking my sisters and I up for a road trip to Colorado to see his sister (our aunt) and family. My mother was being a real B to him and he tossed a suitcase at her or something, I don’t remember exactly. And she starts crying and comes up to me and asks, “Do you want to go with him?” frantically. “Yes,” I said. I wasn’t going to miss Colorado because of her antics. Interesting that she would make me go with him without ever asking my opinion but the second she gets butt hurt over something he does she runs to me crying wanting me to stay.
The more my writing is discovered by friends, acquaintances and family the more free I will be from all that holds me back <—- my intention.
Until tomorrow.
With joy,
K
