A confession.

  Dear Reader,

I must make a confession of sorts. I have not been writing on any platform in quite some time because I have been terrified that what I write will cause harm. I have been terrified that what I write will bring suffering to my loved ones. I have been terrified that what I write will be the cause of great sorrow.

These terrors are in part the fruit of evil that was done to me as a young child. The people who raised me told me that if I wrote about things they disapproved of people would come to burn our house down or kill us. They told me that if I wrote about topics that they disapproved of my entire family would suffer because of it. They told me that if I gave voice to anything that wasn't 'normal' that I would be ostracized and other people would do things to harm me. These lies were repeated so often that they became the backdrop to my early efforts to write.

I have walked away from these people. I have cut pretty much all ties to them. Due to the nature of the psychological trauma that I experienced with them, however, I have these anxieties and terror that seize me when my mood is low. I have bipolar II and I regularly experience low moods because of it. This acts as a trigger for the emotional flashbacks that have been making writing and any form of creative expression awfully hard over the last few months.

I desperately want to write. I desperately want to finish the book I started a few weeks ago. I desperately feel the need to express myself. At the same time, terror stops me. The pressure within is miserable. I ask that you forgive my silence. I am trying to over come this. I will not be abandoning my blogs. But things are very difficult right now because of my disability and life being complicated.