Admitting the Truth

-
I'm writing more. I can tell because my new blog site tells me that I've written nearly as many blogs thus far in November (it's the 17th) as I did in the entire month of October. I think it's a good thing. I'm not sure what's motivating me - The Words, assuredly, and one particular blog subscriber who loves to wake up and read me with her morning coffee (let's just call it that). But there's more. Time? Boredom? Confidence? Stories to tell? I suppose it's all of the above. I go through rough periods, like I do with the gym and working out, when I just don't wanna. I rebel against it and simply decide not to. Sometimes I don't feel like speaking my truth so I don't. I fill my time with other things, such as reading (as painful as that can be for me), watching mindless TV, venting to friends, downloading music, and effing around on FaceBook. The days slide by and I'm left wondering what in the Hell I did to pass the time. At least when I'm writing, I know what I was doing with my time.

So yes, I've been willing to admit a lot of truth lately. Why hide my pain? I want to remember this time, this horrible, awful simply no good time that's turning out to be slightly better than okay. This is my story. I've been acused of saying too much at times and not enough at others. I say what I think needs to be said at the time. If my truth hurts, so be it. It's mine. And for the record, it hurts me too on occasion. I assure you, before all is said and done, all will be said and done. All in due time. I will let out every secret, every hurt, every victory. Sometimes the wounds are too fresh and the rumor mill too present to say everything that needs saying, but eventually I will lay it all out for the world to read. It may be disguised by metaphor or written as fiction. Or it may be a puzzle that comes together over time. And if I happen to say too much too soon, don't expect an apology or a deletion. I've done that before and I will never do it again. I don't erase my truth (I may just not post it where I know certain people will read it).

My truth preceeds me and it will eventually succeed me. It is mine, all mine. My life, my interpretation. It is me, but it's not. It's me at the moment. I am, for better or worse, a work in progress. I was once accused of being confusing, wishy-washy even. My answer? Do you think I know where this life is going and who I'll be tomorrow? Hell, I'm not even sure about who I am today or who I was yesterday. Don't expect me to be one thing or another because you will be left wanting and confused every single time. I am my truth and we pretty much live day to day, minute to minute. I always say, "Read me and you will know me". This is true, but you have to read ALL of me, not just today or yesterday. Start at the beginning and keep going. See me. See my truth. Over time. Look deep within who I am and who I was. Dare to come inside and dare to acknowledge a little of your truth and you will know me. All of me. I promise you this.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Biggest Fan

-
It comes for all of us. If we're lucky. Right now, I'm not sure I feel lucky, but I know in the days, weeks, months, and years to come, I will come to realize that I am. Or I was. My parents are elderly, eighty-four and ninety-two. From where I'm sitting at the moment - my mother's hospital room - it's doubtful that my mom will reach tomorrow, much less eighty-five, So here I sit. And write...while  my biggest fan lays a few feet away snoring like a freight train. Her snores mean she's still alive so rather than drowning them out with music, I listen, Intently. Because each one could be her last. It's the drugs - her pain was pretty severe - making her sleep so soundly. These same drugs, the ones that keep the pain at bay, may also hasten her death. Her decision. She's been kicking cancer's a** for the past seven years. My mom's no sissy; she can endure. But this isn't the cancer, the known quantity. This is an aneurysm, a ticking time bomb
Read more

Be That Person

-
 A friend texted me last night. Her almost twelve year old son is starting middle school today and she was more than a little stressed. I guess it's somewhat normal for parents to be nervous about such milestones in their children's lives. I mean sixth grade means a bigger school, perhaps switching classrooms, more complex homework assignments, etc, etc. I'm sure there's also some wistfulness about the whole thing. The "My baby's growing up" kinda thing. My friend's concerns last night (and again this morning) were far larger. You see, her son is different. He always has been. Not only is he on "the spectrum," he also has Tourettte's. And he's on the fringes of non-binary. Plus, he lives on the border of Texas and Arkansas in a place that is far from open-minded and falls just below marginally accepting. This is the land of conservative politics (ie Trump), gun rights, big religion, and the concomitant "family values" that i
Read more

A Little Unsteady

-
"Hold onto me...cuz I'm a little unsteady..." It's the first song that popped up on Pandora tonight. Kismet? Serendipity? I don't know. I had another opening line all picked out (and I'm sure I'll get to it in a bit), but sometimes...sometimes the Universe has other plans. Other ideas. Other directions. And often it's right. Absolutely, perfect right. Like tonight...today...all of it... I was unsteady. I am unsteady. For the first time nearly five years. Five years . This, of course, isn't a lying, narcissistic girlfriend or a bad break up of any kind. And for that I am thankful (Not that I couldn't use a nifty stint on the Break Up Diet). In many ways, it's something worse. Much, much worse. I'm being pulled in two directions, veritably (though not literally...physically speaking anyway) torn in two. It's not news that I'm moving to Las Vegas next month. In fact, I leave one month from today with the first load of my life.
Read more