Today is the first day I post to my new blog site, which is currently under construction, though I'm not clear who will do the real work. I've wanted a blog site for well over a year. Why did it take so long? I tend to operate on fear, no matter how loving my intentions are. My fears of commitment, exposure & responsibility have ruled as long as I can remember: pain is a memory. Can I go back to sleep now?
Seriously folks, I'm excited about the opportunity to finally (!) create, discover, express, learn, re-learn, struggle & try something new in the ever expanding global community. Who knows where my heart will lead? I'm addictted to certainty; as such, I trust God will bless me in this endeavor. Still, the idea of maintaining this site is overhelming: at the age of 44, I don't want to grow up, I'm a toys r' us kid.
I'm so lazy I don't want to get up to use the bathroom. But don't get it twisted, I don't pee on myself. Not as an adult. As a child I had a serious bed-wetting problem which traumatized me fiercely. I'd wake up in a puddle of piss each morning, probably from drinking milk at three o'clock in the morning (don't ask), only to find myself too ashamed to do something as simple as take a bath or shower.
Is this too much information for an opening post?
Anyway, some of my brothers & sisters, a few of whom shared the same embarassing trait, would laugh at me. A deeply sensitive child, I felt humiliated. We lived across the street from the school we attended as kids, yet I was late for school EVERY DAY. When I got to school, the taunting continued, lowering my tenuous self-esteem. Some years ago, during an Oprah show featuring Iyanla Vanzant - one of my favorite people - she mentioned anger shows up in being late, and, the need to be right.
Damn, damn, damn...
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