I found my blog. I haven’t really been here in so long. I stayed up til two in the morning last night reading every entry. I wanted more. I started reading all the drafts I have written but never posted. There are about a hundred.
Because I had been away, it was like having someone explain myself and my life to me as if I were another person, and I didn’t find that person nearly as treacherous as I did when I first wrote all these words about her and curated them so astringently, in fear of her embarrassing me. Why would I be embarrassed by her? She’s human. (“Mortal, fleshly, vulnerable, fallible, forgivable” -thesaurus.com)
The past few years, I cringed whenever I remembered all these inner thoughts hanging out here on the internet for anyone to see, but I had no time to get my mind around what I wanted to do about them. Sort of like with all the homebirth pictures in my iPhoto archives, they have just stayed hanging around in this out-of-the-way corner of the internet. I don’t expect there’s been much traffic.
I think it’s good to be circumspect about how much to reveal, and it is good to ask myself who among my relatives and friends and distant acquaintances might be accessing this blog and reading about my inner thoughts and my family. We mustn’t cast our pearls before swine, as they say.
But at the same time, I have this urge to bring my treasures out and lay them before you, standing here all crumbly, exposing myself, knowing you can reject me.
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