Private - Do Not Enter

©

Desperate poetry shot from the pen like a shotgun.
Random thoughts painstakingly ripped from my insides placed as stains on childish notebook paper.
Pathetic drawings poured clumsily from shaking fingers giving physical semblance to the flashes in front of my mind's eye.

As of late I've been privately writing in my tangible journal, which is decorated with pickle covered duct tape that says "Dill with it!" The pickle duct tape is camouflage to make you think that there aren't dark, fucked up things inside it. Pretty smart, huh? Yeah, I didn't think so either. I digress.

I've worked very hard to be a human that is open to meaningful, deep, intellectual communication with other humans. I've worked hard to be someone who has an ear for everyone and anyone. I've worked hard to be someone who is willing to share the shadow side of herself with others in order for others to not be ashamed or scared of their own shadow side. I used to not be this person. I used to be terrified to communicate with anyone on a level much deeper than "Hey! How's the weather?" I was terrified because I believed the thoughts inside my head were tainted. I believed that the way I felt was "wrong". I believed the tears I hid in the dark recesses of my basement bedroom were too salty, too many and too shameful to actually be seen by anyone. I've worked very hard to "un-believe" all those lies. I've worked very hard to be who I am today in sharing what I share in order to provide real time information concerning different aspects of this life. I've worked hard to keep open communication between me and the rest of the world to which I dwell in order to help others see that they're not the only one with a shadow side, with a dark side, with a side that they maybe ashamed of.

In becoming this very open, honest, raw, person I've also had to learn where to draw the line. I can't pour all of me out there, because some of me is for me and only me. Sometimes I will share with others in my life pieces of that journal, but for the most part those pieces inside that journal are mine. There need to be things I write that can't be put out there publicly not because they're too dark, not because they're too raw, too emotional, or too human - but because they're delicate. I get caught somewhere between a strong mind and a fragile heart quite a bit. I'm an exceedingly intense person. I feel everything at a 12 on a scaled from 1-10. There are some pieces of me that I feel would easily break me should I share them publicly. They leave me vulnerable. They leave me fractured. They leave me exposed.

I've written this next part a plethora of times now, and I keep deleting it. But I'm simply going to say it, because it's the truth, and what's the point of writing this if I'm not honest with you? I'm not sure I can trust another human being with those pieces of me. I'm not sure there's any human out there that would be careful enough to not drop those fragile pieces. I imagine they would try to be sensitive enough, empathetic enough, brave enough to try and bore them, but unintentionally I imagine they could very well shatter that which was so breakable. Then I start to think about myself, and what would I do being handed the most delicate pieces of someone else. I think I could be a person that could be shown those raw, vulnerable, fragile pieces of someone else, and hold those pieces with such care that the other person would feel safe with them in my hands. Therefore, should I be willing to trust someone that much to give them pieces of me that lie hidden in plain sight? Good question.

Alas, though there may come a day where I trust an individual enough to share those fragmented pieces of me, there will never come a day where I give them away publicly - at least not while I'm alive on this Earth, and that is perfectly fine. There are pieces of ourselves that we get to keep to ourselves, and that is okay. I don't have to give every single morsel of my fucked up life to this blog - that's not its purpose. I give the pieces that won't break me, or that have already broken me and I have grown back together again. I give the pieces that I believe can make a difference for someone else. And I keep the pieces that are too tender to give away, because that keeps me safe and sane. Above everyone we take care of we must care for ourselves first. If we are not caring for ourselves, if we are not looking out for ourselves first, then how will we ever care for anyone else? It's impossible. Take care of your needs first. Yes, it is most assuredly fine to sacrifice for others every once in a while, but do not make it habit. As soon as you notice your health slipping in any way start tending to yourself. There's no way to be the best that others need you to be without nurturing yourself first. Listen to your heart, listen to your mind, listen to your body, and do what is best for you. You'll be a better human because of it, and you'll live a better life as well.

Alright comrades... take care of yourselves, and then take care of each other.

Haley