The Story I Have Been Avoiding

Jenny Bones says:

What story have you been avoiding sharing? Which one makes you the most nauseous when you think about hitting the ‘publish’ button? Write that one. Today. Publish it. Free yourself from the restraints it inflicts on your creative expression.

I sit here on a BEautimous Monday afternoon. It’s blue skies and breezes and sunshining. It’s the sort of day that makes Gratitude grateful. And all that BEing said and oh so true, I am also in a deep funk. A dark one. The sort of funk that feels much more February-ish than May-ish…

I know there is a reason. A cause. A place from which this funk comes. But y’know… it simply doesn’t matter. The thing is, I am here. I am here for the on BEyond some gazillionth time in my Life. And all I can DO is BE.

During AYWM and my writing on this blog, I have shared some pretty difficult things. And never once did that really scare me. I suppose BEcause I don’t envision anyone ever reading my posts. Well, anyone other than others on this AYWM Journey…

But in this funky place I am Right Now I am noticing that I DO have things I hold inside. Refuse to share out loud. Things I wouldn’t want someone or several someones to read or hear or know. Things I am almost afraid to think about. As though just that act alone would BE some sort of treachery…

One thing I am reluctant to share is that I am happy with my Life. Just as it is. Just as it is NOT.

Another is that I have wanted to end my Life so many times BEcause I was tired of trying to make a Life that someone or something else would deem Enough. I have always wanted to live a Life I’d BE proud for anyone to read about and Now I don’t really give a $#!+ what ANYone thinks. That may make NO sense at all, but it does… It does to ME.

I live with depression. It is my constant companion. Like my Spina Bifida, that I didn’t know about until age 36, which has, in the past 22+ years taught me so much more about itself. I always knew something was wrong with me. Or NOT right. That I wasn’t like anyone else. That I was different. And I learned over and over and over again to “get over it” and “rise above it” and yet it was NOT within my power to DO that. So this often led me down the road where I would think ending my Life was the Rightest thing.

Depression is no more something to BE ashamed of than Spina Bifida. And still…

These are things that I don’t want people to know BEcause I didn’t know them for so long. I didn’t know that there was no reason for shame or guilt about a physical “defect” so why would I make the giant leap that said there was none for shame or guilt about a mental and emotional one?! I hadn’t a clue that wanting to end my Life was how I coped with the NOT knowing about the physical defect that made itself known in so many ways that never were clear enough to “get” as BEing caused by something quite BEyond my control.

I don’t want to publish this rambling MEandering. I want to “fix it up” and tie it together first. But…