...have to do with the "delete your blog" button on my journal settings page. I've been staring at it, on and off, for the past couple of hours.
It is so tempting. One click of the mouse and all the painful memories, all the partial revelations of the turmoil inside me, would vanish.
If doing that could erase them from my mind, I would do it in a heartbeat, believe me. Would already have done it.
Some time ago, I resolved to post one final entry if I ever decided to shut down my journal. In it, I would name names, cite instances and finally reveal the complete story behind the situation I find myself in. I even wrote the whole thing out once, just in case I lost my nerve at the last moment.
Oddly enough, I lost my nerve in advance, and deleted that long, detailed screed instead of my journal. In a way, that's a shame; some people would have found parts of it most entertaining.
Now, I am at a bit of a crossroads. Writing here allows me a certain freedom to be candid, but I still have to indulge in a great deal of self-censorship to protect the guilty. That's just the way I am.
I admit I sometimes wish I could return hurt for hurt, cause others to experience the humiliation and pain they have sent my way. But I can't do it.
So what do I do? I am in a situation where it appears nothing I say or do can bring me the contentment I need, the joy that has been the object of my work and prayers for far too many years. Writing about my pain, frustration and disappointments is no doubt boring to the few people who read this journal, and does no good anyway.
There is no relief here, or anywhere.
Obviously, I have not clicked on the "delete" button yet. I make no promises for tomorrow.
17 hours ago