Freedom of Speech, Debala Style

For me, there is often a fine line between speaking my feelings or keeping them to myself.  Lawd, I know y'all are tired of reading this, but for the first 50 years of my life, what I said was pretty much dictated by whom I was living with.  If I said something the aforementioned livees disagreed with, I was reprimanded.  I don't take reprimands well.  And if I tried to fight back, the emotional repercussions were too much for me to handle.  Good times, good times.

As a result of this, I tend to apologize for a lot of things I say, whether it's warranted or not.  My dear friends have accepted this in me, realizing that it's an autonomic response at this point, much like answering the phone or going to Rojo; I just can't help it.

Writing this blog has helped me be less self-conscious about speaking (or writing) my mind.  I guess it's the anonymity of the thing.  For all I know, nobody is reading this (but you are, right???).  If you are reading this and you don't like it,  unless you *really* don't like it, you won't say anything, so I won't feel reprimanded.  And then some of  you are very kind and say nice things about my blogs, and that makes me feel Awesome.  I like that part.  Thanks.

I think another reason I don't really give a shit anymore and can say what I feel is that I have finally accepted that I will be Flying Solo the rest of my life.  I like sex and I like being a partner and this has been a hard concept to let go, even though history teaches us I wasn't very good at it.  (The Partner part, that is; I'm egotistical enough to think I had some skills in the boudoir.)  In the past, I would verbally tiptoe around potential suitors, afraid that if I said the wrong thing, they would run away in the opposite direction, screaming uncontrollably.  But, they ended up doing that anyway, so what does it matter?  At some point in my life, I have to let a little reality seep in and I guess I've reached that milestone.  Good for me.

That being written, this has been a difficult post for me to write.  I metaphorically (and sometimes literally) duck when I bare my soul, waiting for that lightning strike to hit me. 

Luckily, today I'm wearing rubber-soled shoes.