I arrived here this morning and was greeted by my old laundromat biker buddy, “They’re ready for you” he said, gesturing to my two favorite washers “I kept ’em warm for you.”  I stuffed them full, sat down and he filled me in on the progress of his eye that had glaucoma.  He sees floaters and doesn’t trust doctors anymore.

I was eager to start writing – get this post out-of-the-way – but listened to him instead until he was done and heading to the dryers.

So the ginormous elephant in the room – my Friday post that I deleted..

I was having a rough day.

Usually I can stomp down my past and stay in the moment – but not Friday.

I reached out to a friend “Ok, which topic should I write about”  it was suggested I write one and send it to them – not publish it.  OH come on!  That’s so sensible – so not ME.

I called another friend who is always full of wisdom and always makes time to listen to me ramble, and then ended up speaking to her sister.

I was trying to type her words as she spoke (which, didn’t work out too well.  I prefer to do my ‘interviews’ via IM, so I can paste and so that I can be certain I have each word correct.)

During this conversation, I was also trying to interject my story into the piece as we had very similar pasts.

By the time we hung up, and as I was trying to read what I wrote through wet eyes – I heard …. what could only be described as a baying.  Like an animal in pain – gulps of air then terrifying exhales of  screams.

They were coming from me.

I was mourning in a way that I’ve only experienced a handful of times before in my 45 years.

I was out-of-body – feeling every horrible thing I’d ever done with such remorse and regret and agony.

I hit publish during this.

Stupid.

It was written horribly – not edited – and after I shared it I realized, sometimes my candor is too much.

I removed the piece.

I received comments, two in fact, from a reader the next day.

Here’s one:

“Your post “We’re too tired to survive” was disturbing to say the least. You must have really been high. I see you removed it. Once posted on the internet it is always out there. Could have been printed or copied and pasted.”

The second comment was much like the one above, but ended saying I should get help before it was too late.

I considered not approving the comment – but that would not be very authentic of me right?

I responded:

“Yes, it was disturbing, and very hard to write. I was typing while speaking to someone who was telling their story and interjecting mine. I try to be as honest on here as I can be, and no, I was not high. I was in a lot of pain and you are right, I need help. I can’t fix those things I’ve done and it always weighs heavily on me. I have a ‘contact me’ section you could have used if you were concerned. But I’ll own my piece and reply here. For all to read. Yes I know, once out there, it’s out there forever. After thinking more about it, I thought I could probably do the story justice another way, thus the removal. Was not a good piece, hard to type when crying and so emotional. I have good days and bad, and I always hope that in sharing the bad ones, perhaps I can help someone else.”

Both comments bothered me – for a couple of reasons.  1) I took the piece down, but she brought it up in two places to be sure I saw – but in doing that, the ghost of the removed piece was also in two places for everyone else to see.  As I mentioned to her – I do have a ‘Contact Me’ section.  If you’re coming from a place of concern, use it.

2) The reminders of ‘once it’s out there it’s out there’ and ‘could have been printed or copied or pasted’ came  across more like a threat than a heads up.

I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way.  That’s my guilt projecting onto the tone of the comments.

I know once something is out there, it’s out there.  I have friends that have read it and strangers too.

I stand behind what I wrote, but only wish I had written it in a less emotional state.

I also had no business revealing a truth to the public before discussing it with the one involved.

That’s been a standing rule for me.  I tell MY story – it is not my place to tell a story that involves another.  Unless I have their permission.

‘Harm none.’

Oh it’s so hard sometimes – but I do it.  Or rather, ‘don’t do it’.

The person was right about one thing though – I do need help.

I need to get all of my demons out and begin to truly heal.  Therapy is something I’m very open to.  (Just, without the shock treatments please! lol)