Testing the Waters...Big Toe First

There was a point in time when I dived into my blogs head first. Fearlessly offering my life and experiences as kindling that keep my myspace blog fire burning. I typed with a devil may care attitude, no part of me was untouched or untouchable. That was in 2004. Now, I find myself hesitating at every stroke of the key. Not because I'm ashamed of anything I've done but because in the last 3 years I've went through some major life changes and I find the things I yearn to talk about bring me to tears.
My blog used to be my therapist and antidepressant. It was how I loosed everything, good, bad and ugly, flying around in my head. I loved the praise from my friends and strangers. Nothing brought a smile to my face quicker than someone leaving a "I know that's right girl!" comment on my page. While I have no doubt that my thoughts would illicit that same response I find it harder to put word to paper(pr screen as it is). Harder now because what I long to speak on leaves my vulnerable. My words will expose my soft underbelly and I'm not ready to be so transparent. Nothing that I would write about would be any different from the conversations I've had with my friends(some of who have wonderful blogs on here) but the difference is it would be just me. Just me and words to digital paper. Just me and the things I've longed to say but held onto because I refuse to be seen as anything less than my optimistic self, but at night when the baby has been put to bed and my Facebook games have been tended to(don't front on Tiki Farm and Sorority Life) I find myself, by myself. It's easy to fill your day with things to do and say but there is a point of time at night that is given to reflection and unless you're pissy ass drunk it's impossible to escape. That's when all the thoughts I've pushed out of my head for the last 18 or so hours come rushing back. The things my 22 year old self tells me to stop being a pussy and blog about them, because other people feel the exact,same way. Sometimes I'm tempted to give in , tempted to throw myself over the cliff and be at the mercy of my feelings and type until I run out of words, but something stops me. It's the knowledge that somewhere someone will be reading my words and know that I cry as I write them.