Thursday, August 9, 2018

Checking In

From time to time, I get a bit nostalgic and review my early posts. There are 160 of them, you know. Actually, this one will make 161.

In fact, I was numb when I read some of the earliest ones, back when I was married to someone else, living in a different state - and state of mind - and questioning my life and all of the drama in it.

I gave a quick, horrified thought to deleting them, lest they be read and my life from then to now be summarily dissected.

But, you know, in the spirit of authenticity, I left them in situ. They were my thoughts, they were my emotions, they were - and are - my truth. It is my progression from doubtful, scared and pensive to empowered and fearless. I had to give to receive. I have always felt a need to write, almost as much as I've felt the need to create art. I jot down phrases I hear, descriptions of people and their actions, and search for my own truths via words on paper. I love to read other blogs, written by people acting out their lives and emotions without fear of reprisal. Some people are more private, and prefer the comfort of a personal journal, only read by themselves, but I write for anyone to read. It's who I am, it's my extension of authenticity.

How can a person know another person without seeing them as their authentic selves? What do you have to lose? Afraid of someone seeing you as you are? No, that should not be a fear. It's an honor to experience a person at their most truthful and vulnerable. Respect that honor, for it is those people who will become part of your story. The others who scoff or do not attempt to understand - those are the people that are very rarely a true part of anyone else, because their ego is too powerful a deterrent to becoming part of someone else.

So, although it pained me to relive some of those feelings, those questions I never got answers to, well, it was a much-needed reminder of just how far I've travelled, both physically and emotionally. I treasure the written word for remembrances, almost more so than photographs. When you write things down, it comes from somewhere deep in the soul, and photographs are visual memories of the past. Words speak volumes. Photographs are worth a thousand words? Not in my mind.

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