Monday, January 19, 2015

My Lips Are Sealed for Now.


Do you ever feel you'd love to write about something that's really fogging up the old spectacles but you know you can't. And you sit on it and stew on it and privately journalize it and think there might be a short story or even a bloody novel in it but there isn't. The words stream on and there just isn't any way of getting rid of it, it is fraught with anger and sadness and a kind of resignation and despair and you'd love to spit it out at the world.

You know?

And you can't. Because of breached anonymity.

So many of you out there writing long and hard for years on such a platform as this must know whereof I write. Of which I write. Of.....

I suppose a good old suck it up might work, down the road that is. But right now and for the past while? It makes me seethe. It's not an uncommon loathsome behaviour I witnessed but I haven't seen it written about before. And I can't seem to work my way around disguising it. That breached anonymity thing you see.

I mentioned my dilemma to a family member and they had a great time with it - acting out how TV programmes handle such matters with changed names and disguised voices and descriptions. To the point where it took on a life of its own amidst our helpless laughter.

But this was no laughing matter and quite serious. And the desire is burning within to put it all out there rather than privately.

So I'll distract myself and tell you I returned from dear old Ireland today.

And yeah my heart's still broken and it all feels so surreal and I'm dying to tell her all about it and I can't.

So there it is.

Hence the picture I took of my three beloveds up above.

To cheer me up.

9 comments:

  1. That is always a problem. The stories I could tell! Anyway, welcome back to the New World.

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  2. Sounds like you are in a little better spot now and some healing has begun. My grieving has just started....we bury my son tomorrow at 2 p.m.
    My heart is so very very very HEAVY

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  3. Love the photo. We can't always write about what's really going on for a variety of reasons - I'd rather stay mum than be sorry later that I said too much. I don't think we can err by staying on the side of saying too little....

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  4. Yes. I'm a therapist. Sometimes I could scream for the stories that have gotten away. Ah well. I just heard a very old family story of my fella's and I am putting it into a story. Highly disguised and all people involved are long dead but still.... I can't not though. It is too pertinent. It burns through me. One thing I do try is to find out the essence of the story - not the content. It is tricky but can be a good contemplation.

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  5. I hold so many stories secret that it's just second nature in some ways. On my blog, I can't talk about patient stories except in vague or disguised ways, no matter how heavy they weigh. And I have to be very careful about anything family-linked since my sister reads my blog and I don't fully trust that wouldn't wind its way back to the subject It's a mixed thing to blog.

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  6. I thought I left a comment here already. Let the story drip through your fingers and then lock it away for twelve months. Then and only then read it with the eyes of distance and it will tell you if it is for publication or not.

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  7. There are many things I would love to blog about, especially things about my family, but like you I'm not going to breach anonymity, or reveal anything told me in strict confidence, or be so candid as to hurt and upset people. There are plenty of other things to write about.

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