How can you write about your life and then post it for all to see? That’s just weird!

For starters, I’ve never been one to shy away from words like ‘weird’ or ‘strange’. I embrace them like an old friend and wrap them around my shoulders like a warm blanket. Give me the definition for what ‘normal’ is and I can show you a woman who will run as fast as her chubby legs will take her in the other direction.

To address the ‘how’ of this question I’ll start with explaining a big difference between myself and others. I’m not one to go on about how I’m feeling all the time. Sure, I will tell you how I feel about given topics. I won’t sugar coat my opinions to lessen the impact on yours. I don’t believe in riding the fence. I’m usually all or nothing about pretty much everything in life though I try to see the many facets of the situation before making my opinion. I try to keep feelings about things that are personal to myself or between me and whoever else might be affected.

This habit has been developed over time as a sort of defense mechanism. I have a tendency to get too emotional to verbalize how I feel. When I get very angry or very sad or even happy, I cry. That’s right, I’m a crier. If there was one thing I could change about me it would be my total inability to hold back the hot downpour of tears and snot that seem to erupt any time I am forced to deal with some emotional upheaval. People tell me to just “stop it”. Well, thank you very much asshole! It’s easy for you to say. I can’t just stop it when I feel that hard lump creep up into my throat, feeling like I’m going to choke on the emotions threatening to pour from the apparent limitless ducts in my eyes. Seriously, I think I got a few extra when I was being formed in the womb.

I don’t have major melt downs very often and I attribute this to my writing. Where many people I know talk incessantly about how they feel about this or how they feel about that, I write. I purge myself of negative thoughts and feelings by pouring them onto the page. It’s how I solve problems, how I deal with unrest, how I cope when my world feels ready to crumble around me.

My written words never fail me. Even through my roughest hours, sobs raking my core, words will spill from my pen or ricochet from the walls as I type at a maddening pace. When I feel the weight of all life’s burdens threatening to topple me to the ground and then trample my soul, I can transfer that load to paper and immediately I feel lighter. If I fail to do this, the negativity is nothing but poison to me. It becomes all encompassing and will eat me alive until I am an angry shell. Writing is what saves me from all those things in life that drag me down. Sharing that writing is what keeps other people aware that I am listening, I am feeling. This is my process, my way. This is me.