One thing I fail to do (among many things) is write the positive. Write the good. Write the happy. I can tell, looking back, how far we have come from what I have written. I can see the gap in places – things left unsaid, and know, that something good was happening. I can see from what I write, how I write, and what I choose to say – how far things have come. But I guess…not everyone can. I have always said I don’t write for others, I write for myself. Which in a way, might be selfish, but it is what it is.
I write to get it off my chest, and out of my head, to clear things up, to see it out there and know that I don’t have to keep it anymore. And most times…when I finally am able to write about whatever is on my mind…when Im finished, Im over it. Im better. Im ok.
But not everyone sees that. Not everyone gets that, and that’s ok.
Someone asked me, the other day, what I would do if one day the kids found what I write. Honestly, I don’t know. I try to sensor what I write about them, and I don’t put it all out there, the personal, in-between nitty gritty…but sometimes, its hard. And they know that. They know that life with me is not going to be easy, and that raising them was NOT my first choice…that I prefer them to have their parents.
Sure, they don’t know all the many MANY times I have considered “Giving them up” because I thought it would be the best for them, but I hope they would understand that too. That I love them. All of them, and that’s just how it is.
Just like any kid, I assume, they will and do have, things to overcome themselves. Madison takes to writing in her notebook when things are hard…she doesn’t let anyone see that, and I would have to ask her the same thing…what would you do if one day I read what you wrote. Because that is what I do. I write. I try not to publish the personal, but I write about it all.
Yes I have written more about Josh…does that mean I love him more? No I don’t think so. It might mean that he has more issues that stick in my mind more often, that I have to write about him more or else I would mentally explode. I do NOT understand him, and in order to gain some sort of understanding…I HAVE to write about it.
Dylan gets quiet when things are wrong, and only occasionally will slip one or two words out that causes anyone who heard them to panic. Its just how he is. He sorts through it, and is ok when hes got it sorted…
I guess what Im saying is things arent always as they appear…and what I write isn’t always the entire story. It is a story. A piece. A section. A small portion that I needed to get out. I leave out a lot. A lot of the mundane things. A lot of the personal things. A lot of the things that don’t seem to matter in the whole scheme.
It’s a piece of the story.
A piece of our life.
And that’s all it is. Just a piece.
The complicated, confusing, and frustrating. The good and the bad. And sometimes the in-between. It’s the piece I need to share for now.