Journaling has long proven to be tauted as therapeutic. Writing is a form of thinking for me. When I need to process things that are too intimate to blog about in the public online arena, I keep my hand-written journal. I don't write in that journal nearly as often as I post to my online journal because usually life doesn't present such personal matters that cannot be openly discussed and shared.
Until a month ago, the only writings involving "my guy" were extremely positive and generally vague in detail. One only needs to have taken a gander at my journal over the years to know that. Often I would be bragging on him, and appreciating him, and in other ways being loving and supportive, encouraging, and accepting. Those of you who are longtime readers know this.
The online community of which I am a member here has been extremely thoughtful. I've very rarely (meaning once or perhaps twice) received a negative comment, in large part because I'm generally a mindful, positive person and am respectful of others. The friends who have rallied around me have often times started as acquaintances here online and then spilled over into lasting, trusting, and strong relationships offline.
The bloggers who I've linked to in the left are folks who are authentic and honest. Many of them have become professional writers thru blogging. Some have even been able to make their livelihoods solely from blogging and lead full lives that often include similar personal struggles with which I can identify. In fact, it is because people share their own experiences in a supportive environment that I have been able to process, grow, and venture forth in my own life.
Generally, I've been protective of others and only share information that is mine to share. Sometimes I will use names, such as "for Mari", "for Adria", "for Kathy", or "for Courtney". The information then used in the entry is general enough so that there are no identifying markers other than a first name that is commonly used throughout the general population.
In all but one instance was I very complimentary. In the one case I was not, most folks didn't even realize that the clarification was for that person who was so harmful; folks just thought that I'd written a clarification as I would for a friend. The guilty party read much more intent into it because she knew she fucked up and yet pleaded for discretion after having shown blatant indiscretion over the span of six weeks through her own actions offline. So much so that employees from a local organization who did not have any clue what was going on remarked upon her inappropriate behavior in public spaces such as the parking lot.
About a month ago, I experienced the deepest betrayal a person can have in this lifetime. There were some entries that I posted for less than 24 hours, then taking them offline because I felt that the toxic rage, tremendously painful bewilderment would only serve to make me more bitter and would be more harmful to myself, as generally I am kind to all. I was even then protective of others, respecting their privacy and divulging few if any markers other than a first name.
The man that I'd referred to as "my guy" for years now has recently decided that he would rather I didn't blog about my life (and therefore his by association). For years, when he would read entries in my journal, he always had extremely supportive positive feedback. At no time prior to the last few weeks has he ever voiced or shown any concern about my blogging. It is only since his betrayal of me, the supposed "love of his life"; that he is now concerned about what I have to say, how I say it, where I say it, and who might read it.
I think journaling is more authentic and meaningful than belonging to a score of "social networks" online, chat rooms, and engaging in flirtations that lead to extremely harmful affairs that slid down slippery slopes into cesspools. The people who have become my friends thru journaling, thru shared experiences, thru supportive endeavors are among those that I consider some of my truest friends. I've moved over fifty times in my life and have always made lasting friendships, wisely choosing individuals who have stood by me thru time and experiences.
The only time that I have so wrongly chosen and misread an individual is the man that I trusted and loved with my everything. After five years, he had decided to wreck what was the best thing he has ever or will ever experience. Eventually, he will understand and accept that instead of fighting so hard against himself.
He not only foolishly believes that he fell in love with a woman with whom he first chatted up online, then met offline, in a matter of a few weeks; only to then within two weeks decide that gee, maybe fast friendships with benefits such as that are empty of meaning and not worth the price paid. But instead of realizing that he has only himself to be angry with, he has decided that I am to blame for having blogged about my own grief and bereavement. He believes that I should continue to protect him, even tho he has destroyed any reason why I should do so.
In truth, tho, I have and do continue to protect his identity. But the guilty always feel that everyone knows their particular identity and that shameful knowledge of their own despicable behavior preys upon them. So he protests that I should not share my own feelings and views on all this, because he fears that his own actions reflect poorly on him.
Too bad. So sad. I have shown more moral and ethical accountability than either of the two individuals who are in positions to have integrity and yet do not. Shame that even in my lowest, I am still infinitely better than them. Shame on them.
Good on me.