Withholding Words: Self Censorship

You may have noticed a missing post.  Or you may not have because I may be overestimating how much my words mean to you because they mean a lot to me.  My words are symbolic of a freedom I’m dancing in. I admit that I’m still walking a line and feeling out my comfort. I censored myself.

I’m a really light sleeper with a huge day finally behind me and when I got an alert at 4 in the morning, I stayed up and typed.  It was honest and raw and not entirely pain free, but not what I want my blog to be about.  This is about me.  Mainly me.  It’s also about the many ways I’ve been shaped by relationships that are no longer relevant. It’s about me and how I’m crushing this chrysalis, and that last post was more about me and the ex and it gave him more proprietary space on this blog than I want to offer him right now.  One day there will be no fear of what his reaction will be.  There will be no fear in closed spaces with him. There will be no need to forgive him because I will have forgiven him. It was a post about our sins against each other, and maybe in time I’ll make it public again.  Just not tonight. Not when I see him in court and the attorney can tell by my body language that a bailiff escort out of the courthouse was appreciated by me. Not when strangers can see my body language shift from confident to fearful in the shift of a gaze. This is my selfish therapy platform where I point out my weaknesses and find gentleness from within with an accountability to a nebulous crowd.

I met a woman at the courthouse.  She introduced herself to me and handed me a card with her name preceded by the word, “Goddess” as the first part of her given name.  She called me Goddess as well.  She asked if I spoke spanish and I admitted I only know enough to get me through a conversation about love or food – the important stuff.  She thinks I should rewrite that memory in San Pedro at the Friendship Bell that I shared about in Water Baby.  I let go of that boy so long ago, that it’s faded into good memories and I’m not sure I want to walk over them with new ones. We talked children and beaches and the healing I’ve found facing the Pacific Ocean under a blanket of stars.  Her beliefs differ from mine, but I could censor my disbeliefs into appreciating the beauty in healing wherever we are blessed to find it.  We talked and her light brought me peace amidst the snickers and phone conversation about me going on a few feet from me.

While I didn’t get what I wanted in court, there was grace and an alignment of circumstances that can only be described as favor.  Miracles happen where you look for them.  I was encouraged by four men that looked me in the eye and expressed the value they saw throughout my day.  It was just the pick me up I needed, when I needed it and least expected it.

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