Which Words?

I could fill your inbox with words, day after day. Most of the posts I write and publish now end up at about half the length at which they begin: and that’s just counting the words that I type. The ones rolling around in my head would amount to thousands more.

So, how do I decide? It’s kind of a crapshoot, and it depends on the day. I wish I could say that it’s completely driven by me (what I need to write) and not by any expectations concerning an audience. Writing helps one think (beware of new technologies promising to do your writing/thinking for you). Sometimes just getting the words down in a journal or even on a scrap of paper is enough, but not always. The potential for your words to be read by others can be essential, even if you can’t put your finger on why.

It all gets harder, yet paradoxically easier, when you strike out on a path most people either don’t know exists or are afraid of. It becomes harder because you know few people will understand you, but it gets easier because you finally understand yourself.

Just last night, I told Bridget that I was going to stop posting on Substack. “I’ve said what I need to say. Nobody gets it because it’s way too threatening to their ‘peace of mind.’ Even when I get a response, it becomes clear that they don’t understand and don’t want to understand.”

Bridget, however, understands. She replied with something like, “Yep. So-and-So seems to imagine that our family is just one big catastrophe: constant yelling, screaming, crying.”

I took in my quiet surroundings and laughed. “I know! No matter what I say, I can’t make anyone hear me when I tell them that the healing process seems to be wrapping up, and that, for the first time in my life, I’m at peace with who I am. I guess the real problem is that I stopped playing the game the way they’ve been trained to play it, and they can’t handle that. It doesn’t even compute.”