I realized last week why it’s you that gets the longest letters. You were my blog before I could type. When my keyboard became an extension of my mind, e-mail sent you my first entries. My first Fanagan. The only one who got pinged for years and years and I’ll be even more pleased if you don’t know what that means and laugh to yourself that it must be something dirty. Please know that I know you are my Clio, and if I make it as a writer, really, really make it, it will all be because of those letters we wrote to each other. You have no idea how healing this writing experience has been for me because having a foundation in writing to you every. single. day. is what allowed me to go from good to great at a high rate of speed… all of those e-mails that you called “emotional bombs” were actually blog entries meant for an audience of one. I realize now that you might not have understood this; I used an equal amount of heightened language because that’s how you got my attention. Things began to get better for me when I realized that I could never be bigger or louder. I could only talk about my still, small voice and hope that in some way, one day, it would call out to yours.
Writing has allowed me to erase my shame. I have none. Literally. Because what experience is there in the world so embarrassing as the one where you take a look at the patterns you’ve built up over time that are now weaving into an exquisite noose? No one can embarrass me more than I’ve embarrassed myself. No one can shame me into better future behavior than I can. No one can weave a tighter noose than I can and then get me to use it as easily.
Writing self-reflection pieces, for me, is like volunteering to live in a house with floor to ceiling mirrors. My blog is the running commentary of trying to accept myself as I am. As I REALLY am, with tiny emotional warts and boils that I hate just as much as you hate your <insert flaw here>. In the process, it is often entertaining, but the comedy is rarely the thing. I use the comedy to get you to stay for the drama. It’s a reward.
Today is the day where I got to look in the mirror and see the real picture. What I looked like with some validation that my situation had changed. With some validation that you might have influenced my life beyond what you thought you did. It allowed me to lose a lot of the anger, bitterness, and resentment that I have toward you that I just loved and loved and loved you even though everything was so lopsided. I had the classic kid reaction to an adult they loved drinking, smoking dope, and living with an abusive spouse. I curled up in your lap and loved you and snuggled up into you even though you were just a wire monkey roller coaster, and, after a while, an idea in my head.
But because I knew how I felt every step of the way, it didn’t send up the red flags that it should’ve. I didn’t notice or care that my behavior was alienating, because I felt I’d lost all dignity long ago.
Today, I gained it.
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Stories That Are All True 