Censorship

We all have these blogs now. We post our little blips that we think everyone wants to hear. We post news about our little families, little trips here and there, and our pictures of happy moments. We get excited as we find out more and more people are reading our happy little events. We send the links to our blogs out to everyone we know and we watch our blogrolls grow and grow. It's all fun and happiness - for most.

I have enjoyed having a blog. I've always tried to write from my heart and be honest with myself. I've shared my happy moments, my holidays, my photos, and I've shared some not so happy moments. I've shared the worst day of my life.

As time goes on, more people read, more people comment, I find myself holding back. I find that some people, though meaning well, don't comprehend the hurt that sometimes lies within a post and they say stupid shit. I find that some people try to read between the lines and look for hidden meanings within a post and they say stupid shit. I find myself being scared to write - again.

When I was living in my mother's house, there was no such thing as privacy. It was Edna's house and Edna had access to all. I liked to write when I was younger. Her house was not a home with praise or encouragement or pride in us kids. My writing was never encouraged. My writing was something Edna feared. She feared that I would 'lie' and she would look bad. As a result, every written word in Edna's house was taken and read by her. I started a story once, Edna found it while I was at school, she took it, and she read it. She screamed at me for hours but kept my papers. I found them again after moving back home in my early twenties. She wrote all over the pages with a red pen, making editor marks. She wrote in the margins - 'lies", "never happened", etc. I took those pages and I burned them upstairs in the bathroom sink. I never wrote again until I started this blog.

I hesitate to post a lot more than I used to. I hesitate to offend people. I fear that Edna will again find and banish my words. I'm afraid to come across as a sympathy seeker. Or an Ugh, she's posting about that again. Well folks - that's all about to change!

All that said...This is my blog. I don't force you to read it. From here on out, I am going to say what I have to say (no, I'm not going to do anything that's just plain mean about anyone -except maybe Edna). Talk about what I want to talk about. I don't care how you feel anymore. If you feel the need to call my mother and read to her from this blog, just remember there will be a special little corner in hell reserved just for you. From now on, I will talk about things as they meet my needs. I will probably repeat myself. I may even contradict myself a time or two but I'm done feeling censored. I'm in control of what I write - You are in control of what you read!