I have offered my blog as a safe-haven for a writer to write something out...
Firstly thank you to Maxabella for offering to me to write this post. It is the hardest thing I have ever written. It makes it real, for so long it has felt safe in my head, a story, a fictional life, but it isn’t. Life is not as dark as it may seem in this post, this is a mere slither, generally life is full of wonder, beauty and things to be grateful for and again thank you to Maxabella for reminding me of this. Oh yeah, and sorry it is really long!
When Maxabella emailed me earlier this week concerned that she couldn’t find my blog I didn’t know what to tell her. Part of me wanted to reply with some fluffy reason and another part of me wanted, needed to be honest.
You see late last week I all but deleted myself from the online world. Here is why.
Growing up all I wanted was a sister. Someone to play with, hold hands with, feel safe with and someone to share life with. But I already had a sister, an older sister, just not the one I wanted.
Schizophrenia is such a broadly used term these days but in the 70’s it was still a taboo subject. She, (I will call her she), has a mental illness, loosely diagnosed as schizophrenia but it is more than that. She is paranoid, angry, and worst of all violent. When she is triggered she is the scariest thing I have ever seen. Throw in a mass of illegal substances and really, you don’t want to even think about it.
This was my reality growing up. Thankfully not constantly, she would come and go and my parents protected me from the worst of it. Generally, I had a happy childhood, apart from these instances where she would again blow in to our lives.
When she was fine she was what I always wanted and still to this day part of me wishes she was. Another part of me, a larger part of me wishes she would expire from this earth.
I often question why there is so much tragedy in life. Innocent children with terminal illness, parents and children separated by tragic accidents, when people like her, seem to be invincible. Untouched by anything including the pain, hurt and fear to their victims.
In violent rages she has attempted the worst, family members including children have been exposed to this. I have too, in an incident that is my clearest memory, sadly, even moreso than the birth of my children. I remember breaking free in a split second of chance and running. I never knew I could run so fast. If only I was running toward something. I can’t articulate the feeling, or maybe I just don’t want to. Then a few years later in one violent eruption of rage she did the worst. A member of my family.
Finally, after so many years she was taken away. The relief I thought I felt wasn’t there. It intensified, for I knew how it would play out. Just as it had in the past. A master at manipulation and even with all of her history she would deceive her way out all too soon. Forever would have been too soon.
It is hard to explain what it is to live your life in fear. It isn’t a constant fear, which I know some sadly live with every day. God, I couldn’t even imagine. It is just a fear that is deep down in a pit deep in your stomach. Your senses are more acute, you feel the tingle of your adrenaline on the verge, ready to fight or flight, and it will instantly when needed. It may be walking down the street and you feel you have to look over your shoulder. A shadow out of the corner of your eye. It may be coming home and entering an empty house. It may be the strange noise in the middle of the night, or even in the middle of the day. The fear can be gripping, paralysing. My mind will race 1000 miles an hour playing out all the scenarios. Where I will hide, where I will run. I am never ready, but always preparing.
Many years have passed with nothing to be heard of. I have kept my profile low and getting married, the first thing I thought about wasn’t the joy of new beginnings with the love of my life, it was the relief of no longer carrying my family name. I couldn’t sign those papers quick enough.
But all this lead to complacency. Not a total lack of fear, but the feeling of what it is to lead a normal life. I started to do things I loved doing using my name. The online world beckoned and I began business. Along came social media and out there I was. Then I discovered blogging. Hesitant at first I again became complacent. It was liberating to feel free to write about my life, my family, the ups and downs, sharing funny and happy moments. A part of me was still careful of disclosing everything, but it did feel wonderful to relax a little.
Until now.
In a flash it all returned.
It only took me about an hour to wipe myself from the online world, although I am sure not completely, (is that even possible?) but enough for me to feel safe. Safe enough.
Now I am in limbo. Going from wanting to change my name, wanting to disappear myself, wanting to crawl in the corner of my wardrobe for as long as it takes for this storm to pass....again. But then, in the same moment, I want to be strong. To keep going on with life as it is. To be grown up. To stand up. But that is harder to play out than in my head.
I miss my blog. I miss sharing my thoughts. Perhaps it is what kept me sane all these years. My journals, my diaries, my writing, and then my blogging. The blog posts still run through my head continually. Maybe they will stop one day. Maybe not. After all I am a writer and it isn’t something you can just switch off, it is just now I have to do it just for me.
I have considered reinventing my blog under a pseudonym or anonymously but I can’t get my head around doing this. I want to be authentic, I want to be real. I don’t want to have to hide. But the world is a dangerous place, generally. There are people out there who can’t believe their lucky stars at what people share on line. We are today, the most accessible we have ever been.
For me, for now, as I said, I will write privately. This will pass. I think I will return in some anonymous state. I have a lot to share and perhaps I can share more that way. Perhaps in fact anonymously I can be free without caution, without the fear. For once.
One day life will be good. All the time. One day the fear will leave. I only dare to dream of that feeling, I know it feels good. I close my eyes tight, the tears well. Imagine. One day.
♥
You never really know what is going on in a person's life at any given moment. The hidden pain, the sorrow, the fear. My dear friend, you are a brave soul and your blog is much missed.
You need to do what is right for you, but I do think you can be totally anonymous and still be 'real'. I am sure many reading this would agree.
Do you think you can?
[Image via weheartit]