I should be sleeping now. It's the same old story. But I've had this craving for a while. Stronger than for chocolate.
I feel the need to share my story. To connect with people with similar stories.
The trouble is, there is almost no one I can share my whole story with. I have a wonderful and supportive partner. I have a much-loved sister, and a loving mother. I have several very close friends. But I keep coming back to the thought that my whole story, all of my messy thoughts, will hurt someone.
I need to talk about mistakes. My own mistakes. And mistakes of those that I love. There have been mistakes. I have been hurt. I have hurt others.
I have a public face. Happy, well-adjusted. Professionally motivated. Competent. Funny. Strong.
This blog is for my private face. For the people I am and have been. This is about the woman who struggles with chronic illness, and whose partner struggles with alcoholism. This is a home for teenager who had severe depression. For the little girl who was abused and neglected.
I want to write about these things that my public face can't own. I want to spill the beans. All those damn beans. And maybe, just maybe, I will find someone who wants to listen.