cracked

i feel much like i did three and a half years ago when i stopped writing.  i tried to explain it when i came back this time - that it was too hard to write when things weren't sugar sweet.  but that's not wholly true.  it's easy to write - in fact it's the most natural thing in the world for me.. writing when i'm in pain or struggling or lonely or confused or a myriad of other emotions.  but what isn't natural for me is holding back.

i've often wished that i did this blog anonymously.   that i hadn't shared it with my social networks.  that i'd used aliases for the people in my life.  for then i would never run into the brick wall that is self-censorship.

self-censorship.  what a strange oxymoron that is, a cruel twist on self-expression: self-suppression.  

censor  [sen ser]  noun
1. an official who examines books, plays, news reports, etc for the purpose of suppressing parts deemed objectionable on moral or other grounds
2. any person who supervises the manners or morality of others
3. an adverse critic; faultfinder
...
verb
6. to examine and act upon as a censor
7. to delete (a word or passage of text) in one's capacity as a censor

when i act as a censor (def 1) on my writing and then censor (def 7) my words here it must be the "other grounds" on which i am basing my decision.   i think what i may have implied in my earlier blogs is that it was self-criticism or judgement (def 3) that has held me back.. but that's not exactly true in this context.  it's not faultfinding on my part.  it's not a critic within me.

it's the critics outside me.  those who are quick to discern where another has made a wrong turn.  those who always can see the obvious solution.  those who can read a person's mind and heart and assess their shortfalls from a small excerpt of their life.

those who define my grey truths on their black and white scale.

but why do they matter?  it must be fear.  of the judgments, of the questions, of the shrewd deductions.

and so i write in metaphor and concepts.  i write in abstract innuendo and private language few can decode.  i write myself into a corner and then cry when i'm all alone.

i don't know how not to.  the roadblock of exposure and vulnerability is still too great for me to break through.  and so i will write of it, i will expose myself afraid of exposure and maybe in time the two will be one.

There is a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in.

 -lyric from Anthem by Leonard Cohen

for what it's worth...i mean no offense to you; for my fear is generalized to all who look in.  there's no specificity in my barrier, and perhaps no grounds.

d:  the light of exposure
b:  i made a crack
g:  lack of grounds