{safe}

in the middle of the night last night i woke up.

decided to delete my blog.  this time not because i don't feel i measure up as far as writing style, etc.

i no longer feel (felt?) safe to write here.  sometimes i feel judged.

maybe i make it up in my head.  (what don't i make up in my head?)

or maybe there are a few readers who don't comment who are thinking negatively of the stuff i've written.

it makes me heart hurt, my head swim, my stomach tighten and my body sweat.

i take this thing way too seriously.

obviously.

i decided not to delete my blog because at some point i want to have it printed (as in a book for my coffee table, not to sell! hahaha, like it would sell.)  and i can't very well print a blog that doesn't exist.

i did the next thing i could do.  i made it private.

and that hurt my heart, made my head swim, my stomach tightened (might have something to do with the girdle i bought today) and my body sweat (another side affect of the girdle, i hope.)

josh came home for lunch and i talked with him about this.  he asked my reasoning for wanting to delete.

"i don't feel safe.  i don't feel i can write whatever i want.  i don't feel like i can tell people the reason i haven't done dishes all week or why the laundry has been all over the couch for the last few days."

silence on his end.

"i feel like they're going to think i'm crazy."

"everyone is crazy.  just some of us more than others."  he says.  (meaning me)

he tells me that everyone feels the way i do sometimes, just not everyone is willing to admit it.  he says he's sorry i feel i'm being judged.  but that i should just write.

i want to just write.

whether someone behind the screen understands or judges.  it's easy to judge when you haven't been in someone elses shoes (or girdle).  it's easy to judge when it's easy for you to get up and do the next thing. 

but that's just it. 

sometimes i can't just do the next thing.  sometimes i'm frozen.  sometimes i sit in my chair in the living room and stare.  immobilized.  the kitchen tasks are too daunting.  there's too much laundry to fold.  two small children that i'm responsible for but some days i can barely take care of me.

some people have never felt this way and don't understand.

but maybe one of you does.

and that's all that really matters.

so, no privacy settings.  no deleting.  i'm choosing to not filter.

i'm not going to filter my heart.  not the way i've been doing.

i'm going to write.

safe or not.