I have, in a lot of ways, let people off the hook. I turned this blog into a place to air my deepest darkest feelings because I didn't want to inconvenience anyone by having to listen to it. So I have only myself to blame when people want to talk at me instead of listening to me. I see the fear enter their eyes if/when my true feelings come to the forefront. They don't want to hear me...they're afraid that I'll cry...and they certainly don't want me to challenge the beliefs they have about their own lives. So if the subjects aren't avoided completely, I often find myself sitting quietly while someone pontificates on how sad THEY are, how THEY feel about grief/loss, or what THEIR beliefs in God are about. I often hear, "I can't possibly know how you feel but...(here is what I think anyway)."
I have done a good job making everyone else comfortable. I have hidden myself away and made everyone believe that I'm "ok." I've kept the angry and ugly and sad thoughts to myself. I talk about anything and everything but what I'm really thinking. Mostly, I come here and type it out. Mostly, I use this as the window into my head...and I let people choose for themselves if they want to peer in or climb on through. Very few have climbed through. That's no surprise. Given a choice, I'd choose to climb out and run away from this if I could. But the fact is that I stay inside...keep it all inside...and don't force anyone to look at me...to look at all the ugly.
Why? What am I getting from this? My resentment grows. My anger festers. The sadness builds until I unexpectedly spend the drive home sobbing like I did back in those early days...wondering if I'll crash the car because I can't see through the tears...wondering if I care that I might crash the car.
No, I'm not ok.
Maybe I should start telling people that instead of the lies I've been telling.