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  • Writer's picturejodi

Madness

My blog from Yesterday was a doozy.

At least it was for me.

I’m not going to lie ~ second guessing myself during my writing was heavy.


But not as heavy as the truth of the words I posted.


The words flowed naturally,

they felt right.

But it is the judgement of others that made me hesitate.


And I should be over that by now,

I've been judged all of my life.

I suppose we all are. Just some more harshly than others.


But it seems that is something I'm conquering,

the getting over it part,

because here I sit

writing

about some personal

(very personal)

shit.


Catharsis.


I've walked around my entire life

letting people believe what they want

about me.

Ignoring them,

or at least trying to,

as they

tell "my story",

even though they never actually knew it.


That pattern has cycled more than once for me.


It’s madness to think back on some of the heaviness that I endured before I was even an adult.

Things that I pushed down,

until the memory of some of those

moments ~

hit me out of no where.

Pun not intended.

But appropriate.


I guess that is how I protected myself.

Push it down.

Bottle it up.

Let the pain of it

trickle out

in other

ways.


And I’m not playing a victim

because the truth of the matter is

I was one.

I was just always too ashamed to admit it.

And that in itself is madness.


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