Freedom.
It's been so long since I have felt fully free to express myself on a blog. I miss my blogging some days. And I miss the freedom I once felt in writing out my thoughts. Sharing with my small group of fellow bloggers I grew to love and trust over some of the most painful years of my life, and some of the best times as well.
Some days I long to return to that fully-public, screw-anyone-who-doesn't-like me life. But the reality of who I am, how I write, and who I have in my life, even if only because of blood... means this is just not a viable option for me. I am too conscious of who my words might hurt, or embarrass. I cannot bear the thought of writing openly where others could read and interpret my words, judge me for my choices, or otherwise use my catharsis against me.
The truth is, I am not intending to communicate anything to any specific person when I write. Sometimes I just write to process what is in my mind. Sometimes I write because I can't stop thinking about something, sometimes I write to record where I am at a particular moment in time. Sometimes I write because I can't find my way through a situation until I see it down on paper. Sometimes I write to share... but never to share with my mother. I have nothing to share with her anymore. Absolutely no interest. And I don't expect this will change. So writing publicly, where she can see if she chooses to look, is no longer really an option for me. At least not right now.
There has been so much that has happened... it's overwhelming to think about going back and catching up in chronological order. Even my private paper journal keeping has been spotty at best the last couple years. They have been intense years... with many ups, and a few deep, deep downs that I have not been able to write about much at all. I don't feel like I can go back and "explain" these things... so much as go forward acknowledging their existence. Life can be unpredictable, and messy. The choices we make are the best we can make at the time... and that is all we can do. That is all I have done. And I am at peace with the decisions made, but sometimes they do have lasting effects mentally, emotionally. That is life. And that is what drives me to write.
I don't know if I will share this... all of it, some of it... I don't know if anyone will want to read. I feel as though some of the choices I make, or have made, would upset just about everyone I hold dear, who used to know me in a very different time. My perspectives have shifted as my life and spirit have... I am so far from who I used to be I am sure nearly-thirty me would shock and horrify nearly-twenty me. And yet, I like who I am today far, far better than I liked myself back then. I feel safer in my skin now than I ever did then. I feel more whole than I thought possible to feel. More at peace and more vulnerable in all the right ways.
Fully known and loved by another for the first time in my life. Finally at peace with the other half of my soul -- able to give and to receive this love that has always been and always will be mine.
Recently I was called to be very, very free with my lover. To set aside my fears of failing again as a mother, of not being enough for my children, and welcome in the soul which has been asking to enter our family. I believe with every fiber of my being that this soul is the same one I said goodbye to some time ago, and I believe it is meant to enter our family.
And so now... we open ourselves fully, and wait.
