I self censor what I write more and more these days, and looking back at some of the earlier wordage I realise that, like me, this site has evolved.
Firstly there is the constant need for approval, the checking of referrer logs to see if I’m popular or not, then the recriminations of self to make sure I am aware that I am maintaining this for me (!) not anyone else (which is obviously a lie but it allows me to keep up the pretense).
Secondly there is, what I call, the pause. That moment when I look at what I write and decide whether or not to post it. Yes I realise it probably seems like most of what I write I post without checking (this is true) but many times when I’m writing about me, my feelings, emotions and thoughts, I pause. I am aware that people I know read this. People I work with, friends, family – all of whom have a different view of who I am. Deciding how much of myself I want to reveal to them is the pause.
And I’ve just done it again. Unbeknownst to you, dear reader, I’ve just deleted three paragraphs of low-esteem waffle. Don’t worry, it was pretty boring, waffling on about flittering thoughts, hypersomnia, looking through glass and the like… .
THIS is why I don’t like these end of year introspectives. I don’t like looking back with finality. I enjoying reveling in memories, fondly recalling good times, trying to learn from the bad, reliving the past as a shield from the future. It’s scary. A new year stretches in front of us, no-one knows what it holds, but it’s all we can do to take each day as it comes, plan for the next if we can, and live.
I did look back through my archives here and pick out resolutions previously made and frequently broken, but what is the point? This time of year is dark, cold and depressing. It pulls my mood into line with itself and taunts me with possibilities. The ‘what if’s’ return and I glare at them, with malice at first, but my gaze soon softens and welcomes them for what they are; not broken aspirations but unplanned dreams.
Raise your glasses. To 2004. Come what may, it will only be another year.