Things I Cannot Tell You

I miss my secret blog. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy writing here, and although I have no followers (*sniff*) I am pretty sure somebody is reading my drivel...and I appreciate it. It's good for me to get out all the insanity in my head, or at least most of it, and this is what I mean.

After Max was born, I suffered from postpartum depression followed by an identity crisis and a cancer diagnosis. It was a rough time. I wasn't me- at all. There were things I did, thoughts in my head, ideas that made no sense and were turning me into someone else. I found myself by writing. I started a real blog, which quickly became the cancer update place, which thankfully was moot as soon as they took the cancer away. I started a myspace blog very similar to this one, but didn't really keep it up, plus only fellow myspacers really read it. But I needed somewhere secret to write my darkest thoughts...more secret than a journal, because after all, what is a journal more than a place for people to read your secrets after you die? And no, I didn't want that. So my secret blog was born. There were things I wrote there that I would have no problem sharing now...but at the time, it was so secret, so crazy, and me not having a good sense of self anymore, there was no way I could put that out for public consumption. Well, not public who knew me anyway.

In my secret blog, I called my real life self "Little Mommy Sunshine". I felt like I was putting on an act in my life, an act where everything was perfect and there were never problems more severe than the cable guy putting in the cables wrong. In my secret blog, I wrote about everything...my deepest darkest thoughts and what I did with them. In detail. I had about 5 followers, people I had allowed to access after making certain that I did not know them in any way...even though my information was anonyous, my details enough off where someone who knew me wouldn't be able to figure it out, I was super Sidney Bristow about the whole thing. But like all covert black ops spies with a heart, I grew to feel for those folks who helped me out of the road to darkness and helped me (through just reading my thoughts in my own voice and by never ever being judgemental) find my way back to the light. Three of those folks, I eventually granted access to my real life. One I have met and consider an exceptionally important friend with whom I still share more than I share with anyone else. But I have since stopped writing there. I didn't need it anymore, really, which is a good thing. But that doesn't mean I don't miss it. Unfortunately, it isn't something I can really pick back up...it's pretty much defunct now, and those folks have all moved on. I have not the time, inclination or the energy to do it all over again, so now I just live with my secrets inside my head. Which is fine for now.

I toy with the idea of writing a book, but I think it would be selfish. A way for me to get out all the thoughts in my head, but potentially painful for some people...and I am nothing if not conscious of not appearing selfish. :)