To be honest though, I don't do that nearly as often as I used to. In fact, it's a rare occurrence. And yesterday wasn't whining, at least not to me. It was sharing frustration and the reality of my life in that moment.
I am still surprised people take time to read these very personal thoughts. And more surprised when someone judges me on them. A few hundred words posted online is only a fraction of the picture, the life. They're a snapshot of time and emotion.
People tell me I share too much. And people share that my words resonate with them, that knowing someone else out there is struggling or questionning or celebrating helps in their journeys.
Who knows who's right.
What I know is this is who I am at the moment I'm writing. Real. Raw. Not censored. Pained, deep, proud, inspired. Hurt, confused, questioning, filled with joy. Grateful, pissed, ambivalent, surprised.
Present.
I can't imagine what I feel, what I experience to be all that different than most people. I just write about it. In writing I'm finding my voice. And am searching for my center, hoping to let go all sorts of baggage I've been carrying for too long.
I put myself out here and I suppose being judged is part of the package. Sometimes it's remarkably uncomfortable.
But it is what it is.
2 comments:
Self indulgence is indeed the point of having a blog. I have three or four, each for a varying degree of whining! I think I saved my sanity blogging it all away and usually it involved self examination, reflection and a great deal of whining. It's not like a diary on paper between the mattress and box springs.
The last four books I rejected were really whiny. I'd mostly rather read real human whining than fiction. And geesh, if they don't like it (don't tell me they can't tell where the post is going in the first three lines) relief from excess whining is just a click away.
Just so. And we can all choose what we spend our time reading. I choose to read your experience to help me with mine.
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