Like A Bird Set Free

Everything that I write on my blog comes from me, in the moment. A lot of the posts I write touch up more on my past than my present, and there might be an issue because of this. Had I written those things down in the moment they were happening, or right after, I would have a better detail and memory as to what actually happened. But because this is years later, my thoughts change, my perspective changes,  and my memory isn’t so sharp. So what you may be reading could very possibly be a distorted version of What Really Happened.

Isn’t that just so annoying?

A number of the posts I’ve written, since I’ve started using my blog on a regular basis, weren’t so easy to put out there on the table. Like those letters to my siblings—especially the harsher remarks I made—weren’t meant to hurt their feelings, or show anybody that my relationships with my brothers and sisters aren’t exactly perfect. They were for me, to write down how I felt, in the moment, as I was writing to about each one of them. But although they did hurt feelings, and open up some of their feelings about it, part of me thought about taking them all down.

But I decided not to. One, because they’d already seen it; the damage was done. And two, because this blog was meant for me to keep track of my life, and share my story and thoughts with whoever read along. So, possibly against my better judgment, I kept them:

For Heinrich | For Caitlyn | For Brianna | For Rick | For Joanne

These weren’t the scariest I’ve posted, but they were pretty up there. It’s pretty scary to share inner thoughts with people—especially when they’re thoughts you never share in the first place.

The first scary post that I wrote on here was the one about leaving my Mom’s house. I even titled it What Have You Done? because that’s what I would ask myself after the whole thing happened. It was one of the first times I did something for myself, and on impulse. And it became a moment in my life that I think about as The Time I Broke Mom’s Heart. That post was super scary to let loose, out there in the open, because it showed that I wasn’t just this kid that tried to be a poster child and follow the rules, and I think it revealed something dark and selfish about myself. I didn’t like how the weight of that one made me feel.

The other posts that I were very hesitant about publishing were I Don’t Know Why I Do This, The Thing I’m Craziest About, The Confusing Truth, Today Has Been An Emotional Rollercoaster, and Me Too. All of those pieces are darker than my usual blabbering on about whatever random prompt I use, and they all share very personal information about me.

You know, releasing something that basically hits home for you is an interesting feeling. There were so many almost-posts that would have been on here, if I hadn’t turned around and deleted them. How I think about it is that some things are just meant to stay private, and some other things don’t even matter at the end of the day, so why even bother sharing? But, then again, if I always thought like that, I wouldn’t have a blog in the first place.

So I published information about myself, bared a piece of my soul, and hoped for the best. And you know what? Those pieces that were the hardest to press the Publish button were the ones that led people to reach out. I’ve been praised, I’ve been asked for help, I’ve been offered help. Those posts were the ones that connected me to readers the most. And that made me feel really damn good about myself.

I felt like a bird set free. Weight in my heart had been lifted, and flew far away. And I liked that feeling more than any other one that I’ve felt, since starting this whole sharing-a-part-of-my-life thing.


Prompt: Tell us about the blog post you were most nervous to publish—and what it was like to set it free.

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