So, anyway

It was like, what, a hundred and nine days ago I had this great idea. It was to join the UK folk who decided to share their idea about doing something, anything, that could conceivably make you a better person in the space of one hundred days.

So, I did that and it was a kind of terrible experience. Well, not really terrible every day, but it was kind of really sucky some of the time. Other times it was not so terrible. I guess. I decided that I would get rid of a book every day. Like, cool and all that, but it did not seem like much of a big deal beyond getting rid of a hundred books, which is a great thing to do in a house that has thousands of books. Just a drop in the whole paper, ink and glue realm, but, really, it would be only a hundred books, forchrissakes.

So, then I decided to add another thing, and that would be to think/say/write something positive about myself or someone else every day.

Compared to the positive thoughts, the damn books ended up being a snap and I, now that it is over, am kind of surprised by that but not all that surprised, you know?

Through the process, I wrote about it every day. I chose what I thought would be a safe place. It was a forum of women that I had learned to love and where I knew that I would be safe, no matter what I wrote or did not write. I was mostly right about that. The place was chock-full of loving and supportive and insanely funny and caring women. Well, except for the ones who seemed to be supremely irritated by me and the stupid stuff I wrote. And, you know, in the big picture, it was all stupid stuff, just not to me. To me it was like the realest deal that ever was.

That blog place was called In the moment, just like here, and I got right to that whole in the moment thing and place and I stayed there.

Once past the first couple of days, I would sit down at this keyboard and just allow whatever was in my head and heart pour out of my fingertips. No filtering. No editing. No spell-checks. Good thing I am good at spelling. Then I started posting the crap I was writing in a second place and that place had an automatic spell-check function, just like here, and my spelling got much better without me having to actually read what I was writing in order to have it be less mis-spelled.

So, I wrote about the books and, eventually, all the other stuff that left the premises. I wrote a positive thought every day, and let me just say here that that was a really tough thing to do, especially after things got weird here at the old homestead. Which things did. Got weird, I mean. Like really weird. And then they got scary.

So, the most scary stuff has settled down, but only because of me being quiet like a fucking mouse or something else really quiet.

But, during one of the scary parts, I got judged. You know, that is not the end of the world, being judged. It is not. It is not pleasant and I do not know anyone who would choose to be judged or who would like it when it happened, but, again, not the end of the world. I am going to share a secret here, a secret known by every person who has scary parts in their life and then has to deal with being judged about how they feel about being scared and stuck and judged. It is not fun, not even a tiny bit. It is like being punched flat down on the ground, getting run over by a big machine and then having another machine come by and run you over, too. I did not solicit the judging opinion, the opinion was not helpful and for a time it added to the burden I was already carrying. It was a really sad time. More importantly, the writing that was helping me survive was now causing me more pain and I had to stop it for a while.

So, then I was not writing and I did not have any safe place anymore where I could divest all the internal baggage that the stupid hundred days project was piling on during the time when I was clearing out my physical environment.

I am better now. And, I think that I can write again, even if I end up getting judged all over the damn place again. Besides, in this new location I have some control and if someone wants to be all judgmental on my ass, there is a possibility that I might be able to stand up for myself and say something like, who the fuck asked you. Like that. Except I would not say that because I do not want to be the kind of person who would say such a thing, not even to someone who probably deserves it, if not for being mean to me, then probably for something else. Now I am being mean and I do not like it one bit. So, I am establishing a no meanness zone here. Wonder how long that will last.

For someone who never wrote every day, the past nine days without writing anything have been, surprisingly, full of the loss of the process. It seems that I have a lot more crap to divest in the whole inner process realm. And, since no one knows about this place it is probably safe and the only one judging me will be, well, me.