I have conflicted emotions about posting online… well, outside of IG and certain communities on reddit. I mean, I’ve written this first post in my head more than a dozen times before I bit the bullet and just went for it. And even now I’m typing, then deleting my own words because who am I to think I have anything interesting to add to an already saturated form of personal media? On the other hand, who’s really going to stumble across this? So what do I have to lose?
I suppose I want to do this because I never felt safe enough to keep a diary or journal when I was growing up, and I’m starting to understand why that was. So this is for the part of me that needs to document my life, even if it’s just starting at 34 years old and going from there. Maybe Future Me will find some use in looking back on this or maybe I’ll be driven to share this in the vein of helping others who can relate. That last bit sounds silly to me right now, but my best friend, H, has brought up the idea before and she’s not the type to blow smoke up my ass about the important things. If she turns out to be right, I’d rather start this when I’m struggling than wait until it feels totally comfortable. I want this to be an honest picture of me and I hope I can keep that in mind when my days seem ugly.
I have Complex PTSD (CPTSD) from a dysfunctional upbringing that neglected all of my emotional needs from infancy through to now, well, sorta now. I chose to cut off contact with my parents in 2016. It wasn’t a choice I made lightly. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done, and I regret nothing. I’m still grieving the idea of a family I’ll never truly have, but I’m also finding my own patchwork family that has been filling the void. So if they ever read this: Hi! I love you all… seriously. I hope I’ve been showing that. I’m having to learn so much right now, so I hope I’m handling it well enough.
My last bit of coffee has gone cold in my mug. I’ll end this here before I rethink and overthink and decide to change my mind about starting today.