I stopped writing. Here and in my paper journals. I stopped sharing everything. There are no pictures of anyone anywhere that you can see unless I let you. I stopped everything that I thought used to give me power. I stopped being so loud. I’ve disassembled my platform, I’ve turned off the mic. But I didn’t lose my voice. And I am not afraid, I just learned the strength of quiet and the strength of silence.
I have thought about the, “one door closes and another opens” idea. It’s true, I guess. As I closed-door after door this year I wondered what the new doors would bring. But if I was honest, I’d have to tell you that a lot of those closed doors didn’t open anything. There was no new door to go through. They just ended things I didn’t need anymore. And when the needs were filled, there wasn’t a new need to take the old needs place. There was just peace with the ending. And I’ve had a lot of ending this last year. I have chosen to not have such a loud voice. Instead, my voice is quiet, peaceful and privileged. You don’t get to hear it anymore unless I truly want you to. It is my new voice. My new door.
I have found a prize in privacy.
Where there was once pride in sharing, in bragging, there is now just no desire to share. I don’t know why. Maybe it was that someone took all these words and stole and twisted and molded them into a platform of lies. Maybe, it’s because I found it just so damn easy to find all the pain and mean on the internet and that taught me, there is beauty in silence and that there is peace in privacy. I am not sure. It feels safe again though. Even as the end of the month approaches and I wonder if the peace will be shattered, I feel safe, for the first time in a long time.
Christmas is here. We spent the Thanksgiving holiday with my Colorado brother and his family. When Kevin died my heart broke into little pieces. It was the beginning of the truth for me that evil often wins. But within those shattered pieces I found a new piece of my family. One that had missed for a very long time. I got nephews and sisters and brothers and while there is nothing that can describe the pain of losing a loved one to mental health: I am so grateful for what I gained because of it.
And it was truly a great holiday. Probably the best one I’ve had in a while despite some hand, foot and mouth and other weirdness. We did all the fun we could in the short amount of time we had. I even got a sleepover with my nephews. Those memories are forever mine and I am so grateful. This door closing was one of those few, another opens, moments. I get Sam and Danielle and Casey and Cameron. And while I wish I had an even fuller house this holiday, I will take what I can get with a grateful heart.
I think I’ll start writing again though. About what? I am not really sure. Mental health? Maybe. It feels a little more vulnerable than it used to, to share my journey. Where I found it easy to share before, hoping it would help someone down a light path, I now know that people, most people, speak a little different. And that evil can find ways to twist words and make completely innocent words into daggers. And while the good won here, it still makes for painful memories. But I miss writing and I feel inspired these days to say all the things I am thinking.
I’ve begun the “note jotting”. The little ideas scribbled on random papers. The inspiration I felt when I FINALLY got to visit the MET in New York. The humility I felt when someone looked at me and told me that I helped keep them out of the sad and let them feel not so alone. I feel inspired to find the medium of oversharing and letting go; which is what writing and blogging have always done for me.
My new friend sent this to me this morning. It’s funny because everything this speaker says has sort of becoming the theme of my “new” life. Please take the time to watch it. I hope there is some room in your “fuck budget”. Sometimes I am so grateful for thoughtful new friends. And it came at the perfect time to remind me of where I am.
Happy holidays and all that jazz. I hope to be here more.