I often wonder…
How much is enough?
How much is too much?
Will I ever get it right?
What happens if I don’t?
Why am I so afraid of taking the risk and finding out?
When am I crossing the line from responsible adult to inhibited wuss?
Why do I feel the need to avoid things that might lead to a confrontation?
Why do I care so much?
I feel like there is a side of me that I don’t share. The side that may not always be pretty. The one that reveals a little too much. A side that might make some shift uncomfortably in their chairs reading about it. The side that some insist they don’t possess. I shared a little of that side in a post I wrote a few months ago. It wasn’t long, but to me it was bitingly powerful in its brevity.
I think about that post every time I open the dashboard. I see the title of the post sitting in the drafts pile. It always reminds me of that day. I wrote those words in a high emotional state. My feelings had been hurt and I needed to get out of my head. By the end I had a realization about myself that I’ve since been working on. Which is good. But the post itself doesn’t shine the most pleasant light on me or someone close to me. So I never published it. I’m pretty sure I ever never will.
And I’m not sure I’m okay with that.