I’ve always had trouble journaling. I intellectual understand it’s healthy and important and is a good coping mechanism for, well, life. But I can’t seem to stick with it.
I realized, due to beta reading, my difficulties with journaling are twofold; 1. I don’t have an audience, and 2. I don’t have a true motivation.
Sure, writing things down is *good* for you, but so is a salad. I gotta have more then that to stick with it. I needed a purpose, other than “good for you” for writing, idk WHY it’s so important, but it is.
So, “purpose”. That’s a big word in this context: purpose in life, purpose for the self, purpose for being.
Excuse the rambling, I tend to get lost in my own head, thus the blog idea, lol.
I decided a few weeks ago that my audience is my family and friends. This is for all the things I wish they knew about me. Things I wish I could share and explain. Things I’ll never be able to talk about with them… not ever.
They are my silence audience, the invisible watchers for this farce I call my life. As if this was a play and I am the backstage. They watch and nod in understanding or shake their heads and sigh. Without ever understanding WHY the play moves and flows and changes like it does.
If my family and friends ever read this and know this is my blog….. let my say that my heart was always in the right place, know that I love you with every ounce of my broken self, and that I always ONLY wanted what I thought, at the time, was the best or right thing to do.
Having heart was the only thing I had to offer for a really long time.
Excelsior!
The Broken Mommy 