I smiled.
I've realised that blogging is my primary self care, it's where I put most of my thoughts. I spill out all my feelings, thoughts and ponderings. Just doing that is often enough, ugly, beautiful, raw, funny and frustrating thoughts.
Then I breathe, I feel better.
So I cut and paste, edit and polish, sanitise and fashion into something that doesn't offend, something that raises a smile or brings some hope. I protect the innocent and guilty alike and try to be fair. Then I release it into the wild, the internet, and walk away feeling better. My blog is about me.
I always had a hunch that losing my anonymity would present challenges of confidentiality and consent or worse. Right now that all seems very real and I don't know what to write anymore, I fear eyes are watching and looking for fault, picking up on words or intention. I've lots to get off my chest, perhaps more than ever before but as I sanitise my posts to the point of being bland, vague and indifferent they there's no catharsis just indifference and frustration.
There's stuff I can post, #cpv, DfE and the like, but that doesn't scratch the itch.
So, I'm waiting and seeing and writing boring posts like this, though I do feel a little better.
