Censorship Is for the Weak

Forgive me while I’m stumbling forward trying to find my perfect stride. I eventually will. I’ve been through this before.

It was much easier when I first started my blog back in 2011. I was hurting, angry, had felt I lost my voice for so long, had a belly full of sadness and rage, and found a place to purge myself of it. I invented Pissy of the Litterbox. No one would know it was me. I felt a freedom I’d never had before to say just exactly what was on my mind, just exactly the way I wanted to say it. I had no fear of offending anyone. No one knew it was me.

A lot changed, and quickly, when I realized that I was accepted just the way I was. Whereas I had always felt censored to some degree with family and friends so as not to offend or hurt someone’s feelings, for the first time I had an audience that applauded my honesty, sarcasm, dry humor, and rollercoaster of emotions. It was liberating. It made me feel fearless. It made me feel I could trust my readers with more and more clues to my identity, so I did. In return they shared their stories with me; many introducing themselves. We came out from the shadows.

The majority of my family didn’t read my blog back then. Now my children are at an age they may be a bit more interested in my writing, my siblings are retired and may have a bit more time to peruse it, and my husband has actually glanced at my page a couple of times. This has left me uncomfortably exposed in a way I never experienced before. Cat’s out of the bag! How exactly do I handle this now?

I realized I’ve been living in the darkness again. I know this, because self-censorship is weighing heavily on me. This means that I have once again put someone else’s feelings, wants, and needs before mine at the expense of my identity. I find myself trying to re-word something I want to say, because I don’t want to offend the Christian side of my family if they choose to read it. I worry about over-sharing what is going on with my children, in my marriage, or how I feel. I worry, I stress, and then I can’t write. I miss the days when I could say anything and get away with it. I miss Pissy’s blog. Pissy’s rules!

 So here it is… I can’t write, if I can’t blog. The last handful of years has proven that. My Litterbox is where I dump things so I can free up space to be creative in other ways.  I can’t blog if I’m censored. I write exactly how I speak. I speak exactly what I think and feel. If I can’t the words get lost. You all think I have potential. You all have bitched and harped, pissed and moaned, that I’ve wasted this gift I’ve been given. Then indulge me, please. Give me room to express myself and love me anyway. Let me find my stride and see where this takes me. You never know, I might end up in exactly the place you want me to be.

I apologize in advance for the foul language. In truth, I only curb my tongue around you. I love God. I always have. I always will. I’d like to think that He forgives me my wicked tongue. I inherited it, my colorful nature, my mood swings, and my anger, from mom. It’s not something I choose. I’ve tried to be nice instead of naughty. I’m just not very good at it.

I apologize if I over-share. It’s my way. You know that. Our family has never been one to hide our dirty laundry so the neighbors can’t see, pretend to be something we’re not, or be ashamed of where we come from, where we are, or where we plan on going. Someone else’s opinion is mute. Truth is the foundation of our family. Personally, I think we’re all pretty terrific just the way we are.

I apologize to anyone who’s reading my blog if you started following me and are just now finding out that it may end up being a reality series that resembles a train-wreck. If you cringe at such things, this is not the place for you. Better you should visit a site where people appear to be high on LCD quoting all things Love, Beauty, and Spiritual Awakening. Only one side of me feels that way. I suffer from clinical depression and the rest can be very dark. You’ve been warned.

I feel a bit out of sorts as I begin this journey again. Once, I walked with many. Now I feel very alone. Most of those I considered my pals, confidants, who inspired me to grow, have long since left this platform. Being here again is like attending ones own high school reunion, only to find you really know no one, and then realize that you must’ve gotten the date wrong and everyone in the class is thirty years younger. You hang around, though, because you dressed up for the event, made an appearance, and feel awkward walking out. You make a choice. You decide to get to know who’s here and enjoy the party anyway. Pissy likes a party, any party, so I guess I’m here to stay.

Well, that’s the just of it. I’m going to do it my way and on my terms, throwing caution to the wind. Censorship is for the weak. I hope I make a few friends on the way. It would be nice not to have to be alone for a change. But if I don’t, I know I’ll be fine. It’s also my way. I’ve never been a big follower, have always moved to the beat of my own drum, have never been big on junior high bullshit like friend-ing in any way just to add numbers to a page, and put a lot more emphasis on the quality of people than I do the quantity of them.

Anyway, the rollercoaster is now up and operating. Let’s take a ride…