I had planned to do several more identity posts. One on being an American, or that is, a liberal/progressive American. Possibly one on being a Christian (after warning
daisy_gamgee so she could stick her fingers in her ears first). One, perhaps, on being a wife (although upon further thought, I think that's pretty personal and should be kept just between Rob and me).
But I have found that the two posts I did on being a writer and on my day job cracked open something really painful in me. I wrote some stuff down I wasn't quite ready to face, and have been sort of dealing with the fall out ever since.
Some people have remarked, with a certain amount of awe, at how open I am about things in this journal.
Well, of course, I thought (a little smugly) whenever people mentioned this,
I'm used to it. It all seemed so familiar because I'd kept a daily paper journal for over twenty-seven years at the time I started my LJ. I discovered one difference right away, however, and it delighted me. I was doing what I was always doing, getting my thoughts down, but now people were
responding to me. My thoughts were prompting conversations and questions, not the silence of an unresponsive page.
I had wondered aloud about this a little in the past. But I started thinking about another aspect of that this weekend: when I write down stuff now, people are making judgments about what I say.
Really, most of you are kinder toward me than I ever am toward myself. But even when the reaction is wholly positive (as it often has been), it
is different than when you confide dangerous thoughts to mere paper. Thoughts like
I don't know what I'm doing. I may never write fiction again. I feel like a failure. Mere paper doesn't
argue with you. And you can put the thought down on paper and then shove it into a drawer and the page you have written on will never say back to you (unlike Livejournal), "Well? What are you going to do about it?" Which means you can go on pretending that you don't have to deal with that dangerous thought. You put it down on paper, just to release the tension, and then ignore the fact that you have done so.
But no. I put it out on LiveJournal instead. Which made it seem so much more dangerous, so much more painful. More than I realized it would when I wrote the entry. Most of the time, this simply isn't a problem, but this time it was. I don't know why. I am at a particularly low ebb right now; is this part of it? I have cried an awful lot in the last two weeks, sometimes on the phone with
kijjohnson on the other end, huge racking sobs that make my throat and eyes hurt, that make me look like a fright.
I want to keep doing what I have been doing in this journal. I want to keep telling the truth.
Just be aware that some of the truths I have said lately have been very difficult for me to bear, once I've put them out there. And I'm sort of absorbed right now in coping with the cleanup.