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I’m not trying to host a pity party here. I’m not totally whining over some absolutely shitty things that have happened this year. I’m venting. And I am making an effort to tell the truth about everything.
My boyfriend Tyler said he’s been thinking about starting a blog. He thought of calling it “Be careful or I might say something true about you.” I realize I’ve been a little inconsiderate toward some people. I want to balance telling the truth with respecting others.
I grew up in a home where things were conveniently swept under the rug most of the time. When someone had cancer, I heard later than most. I asked my mom why no one had told me. She said, “we don’t want to tell people about it.” I didn’t get it. Why hide something like that? When perhaps the person who had it needed support from others? Drugs, alcohol, abuse. Just like many, or most other families.
My mom asked why I wrote about the restaurant and Tom and feeling upset about being taken advantage of. “As your grandmother used to say, why would you want to air your dirty laundry?” It’s called processing, Mom. And I think that there are lots of people who share the same struggles, who have the same issues.
I want to learn from the past and from my own mistakes. All the bad things that have happened this year, from losing the restaurant, losing Cooper, being on the losing side in the fight for marriage equality, giving away Gogo, moving into my parents’ basement — these experiences are my teachers. Rather than burying them and not learning the lessons and having to deal with them again in some form, I’d rather process them, learn, and move on.
