There is a little unseen backdoor to my mind, a passage to my hidden self. Rarely do I invite people to come to that door.
Sometimes a person might find it by accident while we are talking, a longtime friend or family member that really “gets” me or an open individual curious about what makes me tick. Blogging puts that door out there for random strangers to find. It dangerous, but only a little bit so because I don’t know them. Rejection or rebuke from strangers isn’t nearly as crushing.
There are times when I invite people I know, tell them where that door is located. A few of those people take a look around and stay. Most ignore the invitation. And some come in, read, and walk away. That kind of rejection is worse than any lover’s. They’ve rejected my soul.
In my rational mind I see that as a problem with me. I can’t allow people to do that to me. I can’t take responsibility for other people’s actions, needs, etc., only my own. But my emotional child mind takes the perceived rejection so personally. I believe it is what is keeping me from working harder and getting my words out to more people.
The reality is that I need to have these words out there. I want to organize my thoughts. I long to have my ideas, my thinking, written and available for the future. It’s almost like having children that cannot die. I’ve projected myself into the future, like a time traveler.
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