freedom of speech

Nothing’s too personal when you’re ready to let it go. Most of my writing is not pretty, it’s not well-written, it doesn’t follow the rules. It’s not witty, entertaining, or poetic. It wasn’t meant to help anyone else, though I wish I could say it was, and it wasn’t written to hurt anyone, though sometimes I know it does. It doesn’t make me feel proud or vindicated... it allows me to feel released.I’m always having conversations with myself, constant internal dialogue, and sometimes I get tired of having the same discussion all day, every day, and I write it down. And when I write it down, I can put it away. I don’t have to keep talking about it with myself because it’s been recorded and shelved. I’m not denying that it’s there because I can go back and read it at any time, but it’s put away. And then sometimes I share it. I share it because carrying all of those emotions around in my chest becomes too heavy. I share because I want my friends to see all of my faces. I don’t like living a life where I have to hide any part of myself. It’s like living in a prison, and I spent too long trying to make it pleasant when it just can’t be. I want my friends to really know me. I want to be a beautiful person, not BECAUSE OF the beautiful things in my life, the good things I’ve done, the blessings that have come easily, but IN SPITE OF the ugly things in my life, the circumstances I could not prevent, the situations I mishandled, the bad decisions I made or allowed others to make for me. All of these things have made me who I am, each piece of my history, good and bad. And I claim each and every piece. I own them. Now I can’t say that I’m a completely open book because I obviously have stories that I would never tell my parents or my grandparents because, even though I often think it would make ME feel better, it would become a burden for them to know. As a parent, I know that they would search for ways that THEY could have altered my course, prevented the bad things from happening to me or influenced me to make a different decision when really they could not. I do not want my burden to become someone else’s. But friends are a different story. You are born into your family, whether it’s a good fit or not, and you owe your parents/grandparents a certain amount of respect, respect for who they are as well as the things they believe in. Friends are chosen family, and you should never have to be more or less than who you are with your friends.I write my experiences. It is my history... my story. And each time I can let go, it releases me from having to carry it around on my back. That chapter is finished, and a new one has begun. It doesn’t mean that it’s forgotten, but that it happened and then I moved on. That way there is nothing controlling who I can become except for me. And when I’m feeling the effects of any of the unhappy memories, which always happens because they never go away, you can’t undo what’s done, I go back and read what I wrote in that chapter, acknowledge the way I felt, and am relieved that there’s always an ending... followed by a new beginning. I also find a tremendous amount of comfort in knowing that the friends who are in my life now can read those chapters too, I don’t have to hide them like the family secret in the box in the attic. I can just be me in all of my chaotic, neurotic, mistake-making, intelligent, understanding, kind-hearted glory. And the people who are still here with me, knowing the bad but still seeing the good, are my support. They like me/love me for who I AM, not because I’m trying to be who I think they want me to be. A little self-affirmation is sometimes needed when life is starting to feel heavy again.