doubt

it has been to difficult to post blogs this week, not because they are difficult to write, but because i don’t know who will be reading them. someone new has been reading this blog and called me “stupid” for writing about the darkness that enfolds me and pushes me to suicidal thoughts. i explained to this person why i chose to post that blog, why i thought it was appropriate to post, why i felt it was important: i strive to create safe pockets for myself and others where sensitive and taboo subjects can be openly discussed. but since he called me “stupid,” i’ve begun to doubt myself and my blog-posting judgment.

i’ve learned much and quickly in the past two weeks. the person with whom i formerly would have wanted to share and discuss this recent growth is no longer available for friendship. i miss him, but what’s the point of missing someone who is gone? i’d rather honor his choice to leave without thinking about what and who are no longer with me. this is easier to accomplish when i focus on who and what surrounds me now.

i’m typing today from the bedroom shared by two little girls who aren’t little anymore. i’m facing a dreamy blue-hued poster of purple mountain background highlighting white horses on a sandy beach foreground. i’m sitting on a pink flower pillow at a turquoise desk protected by a giant ratty-haired well-loved doll and a small parrot. i slept for nine hours on the top bunk last night, because i haven’t slept on the top bunk of bunk beds since i was a girl at summer camp. i don’t remember my dreams, which means they didn’t disturb me. i awoke rested, or at least less tired, but i feel numb. i am numb. i’ve numbed myself to the influence of others who have the power to spark self-doubt.

i called the one that amplifies my doubt a few minutes ago, knowing i shouldn’t, knowing that he doesn’t know what i need or how to help me today, knowing that his false happiness (or is it real?) would increase my isolation. when i go numb, when and if i can, i remind myself to list my blessings. i begin with “i can see, i can hear, my arms and legs work. i can dance, i have food to eat, i have a home, i am loved at home and loved in the homes of friends all over the world.” i don’t have to brainstorm the list longer before i feel better, but underneath the first layer of feeling better, i still feel numb. i doubt the choices i’m making in my life. i doubt that they are good, healthy, and correct for my goal. i’m blessed more than most and i know it, but those blessings do not protect me from painful and difficult daily tests. safe havens make my life easier to endure. i need this blog to be a safe place. i need those of you who read it to feel safe to comment (or message me privately). i need to trust myself and what i post here. i need to believe that my life is meaningful according to the meaning i assign it and that what i do, write, and share contributes a safer and more loving community. i need to thank all of you for supporting me. in almost seven years of blogging, i didn’t realize how lucky i have been for never having doubted a single post until last week.

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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7 Responses to doubt

  1. renee says:

    I love your blog. I love that you say the things that I feel but would never say to anyone else, ever. You make me feel less alone and more sane by the things you share. (Maybe dude was just jealous because he can’t do that.)

  2. Cynthia says:

    I love your blog and I read it all the time. It is hard to have an open heart and at the same time then be vulnerable to the hateful words of others. But it is worth it, and you are safe to risk it, because you have friends who will help you stay close to the truth and will help drown out the words of those who can’t be safe for you (or for anyone else, including their own hearts). Keep blogging dear, there are loving eyes waiting to read the words you are waiting to share… I promise.

  3. complete says:

    i love you. i feel safe with you. i do not, nor have i ever completely, felt safe in cyberworld. i have never never ever felt safe with any of my posts…every one is released to a pretty judgmental crowd (or i am reflecting that back to myself). i’ve pretty much quit blogging and turn my search inward, except with you. i appreciate your voice in my head and in my ears as i travel this strange odyssey.

    i finally cried today. i don’t cry much but when i do i realize the tears i hold in create a watery distortion that once released clarifies my world, my path and my self. i still do not like to cry, but i like the distortion less so cry i will, when need be…

    hurt people hurt people. perhaps dude was hurting. perhaps he felt powerless to “fix” your hurt and he was not comfortable with that. perhaps dude was just a loving reminder that we do what we are called to do not because it makes everyone comfortable but because we need to. (that one is really just rambling…)

    again, i love you.

  4. elsa says:

    I think you’re brave. I think we all have some perfectionism in us, and that inner voice sometimes makes the critical voices around us so much louder than the neutral or even positive ones. And critical voices are more likely to yell anyway because that’s how they are. But really, he’s just one voice, and I’m glad that you have so many other loving ones around you. I don’t know you well, but that, and the fact that you’re brave enough to be so vulnerable, speak volumes about you. You have a lot to be proud of. Even accepting that we’re not perfect is brave because it means we have to admit our mistakes and honor our place in the journey. Looking back, I see that I’ve spent some chapters exhausting myself, obsessively seeking validation of my loveableness from a critical or rejecting person that was never going to give it, when I could have been spending my energy in relationships where I was seen and appreciated and allowed to make mistakes. But that’s okay. That was part of the journey too. Your wanting to be a better person is what makes you vulnerable and beautiful at the same time. So go ahead and cry and doubt yourself when you need to, because that’s going to happen if you keep going, but I hope you see in the midst of it that it means that you’re still going. And I’m grateful that our paths intersect sometimes, and that you allow me to witness your growth. So thank you.

  5. I think you should kick that person deliberately on accident.

  6. tara says:

    i haven’t read your blog in quite a while but i am glad i did today. i find your raw honesty incredibly courageous. many people are too busy, afraid, or simply unaware of how to feel their actual feelings in the moment without running away, ignoring or denying them. it takes strength to let uncomfortable feelings well up and wash over you. their is beauty in feeling what hurts, which is found in the internal growth that occurs and ability to feel for others. don’t doubt yourself. the courage that you have to feel what you feel and share your process of riding out those feelings until you work through them is encouraging to others. keep writing. keep sharing. keep being the beautiful wonderful woman that you are. and thank you for sharing yourself.

  7. pixie sister says:

    some people don’t travels the roads we travel. they won’t get it. i love you.

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