Okay, anyway, back to the topic... I love to write and used to fill notebooks with all sorts of things... from my crushes, to my stress, to my eating disorder cycles, to whatever came to mind. It was my outlet, my release, my therapy... and I was pretty damn good at it... not to mention I would never run out of notebooks or writing instruments because I consider one of my "other homes" the office supply store down the street!
But then, one day, it was compromised and I could no longer trust people. What happened was that my (now ex) husband would go through my stuff, including my car, and be nosy, when I wasn't around or when I was sleeping. He did not seem to understand the meaning of "privacy" which lead of much of my distress. He confronted me about my journals and what was written in them... and then to make it worse, he photocopied them to keep readily handy. When I found out, I went psycho! OMG! I am not sure if, at that point, I was more in disbelief that he did it, betrayed that he would think about it, pissed that he went through my personal stuff, or wanting to bitch slap him for just all of the above!
At that point, it became VERY difficult to write... anything... I was upset, angry, distraught, frustrated, beside myself... you name it, I was there. I still, even after all these years, have difficulty putting words physically on to paper. I am afraid it will lead me to hurt and betrayal, yet again. Now, I still have a sense of anonymity but I can "talk" and "chat" with people who only know me for who I am and understand that not everyone is alone and that we all have some type of insecurities.
I would love to write again. I want to. But I can't bring myself to do it. My heart and my mind can't agree on actually doing it. Maybe someday... maybe not... who knows...