Quiet

So, in case you haven’t noticed, I write about personal matters on my blog.  A lot.  Not out of spite, not to hurt people, but to vent.  Because this is a void.  I can rage here, on these pages, as loud and as hard as I want,

and there are a number of people who just happen to read it.  Which is why I try to use nicknames and abbreviations instead of real names and places.  I try to use tact; I have a close friend who reads most of my posts before I publish them, just to make sure it’s in good taste, to make sure it won’t provoke people.

Sometimes my words still, unintentionally, provoke people.

So, news flash: there’s some drama happening lately.  In case you hadn’t come to that realization through previous posts.  And I’m losing a couple of people, and they’re talking shit about me behind my back, and they think that my blog posts are passive aggressive.  They told me that they have no interested in being friends with me if every other week I’m writing an “angsty” blog post,  and for a few days I was like, “well, maybe I shouldn’t post anything private anymore, even if it is kind of vague and nobody is named explicitly -”

But then I’m like, “um, wait a second, shawty.”

This is my blog.  This is the place I go to write when my journal isn’t quite the right type of therapy, when my journal doesn’t bring a sense of catharsis.

And they are under no obligation to read it.

I’m learning lately that if you’re in a harmful or hurtful situation, it’s best to remove yourself from it.  I did that, two months ago when I left a Bible study full of people who said they were following Jesus but who were producing very different fruits from what it says we should produce in Galatians.  When I cut ties with friends who were pulling me away from my faith and encouraging me in directions that were going to land me in more dangerous situations than I had already found myself in.

If reading my blog is hurting them, then they can stop reading it.  But writing is healing for me, and I’m not going to stop.  Maybe it’s bitchy.  Maybe it’s selfish or rude or unkind, and maybe it’s wrong.  But this is my voice.  I’m not going to quiet it.

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