These little earthquakes

I got a note from a longtime friend warning me about the stories I’ve been telling. She raised some doubts in my mind. Is it healthy – or even safe – to bare one’s innermost thoughts and deepest secrets on the world wide web? Even in the context of a completely anonymous blog (except for those of you who have walked up to me and nailed it – you’re just freaky) does one want to share stories which may reveal parts of oneself that are potentially embarrassing, hurtful to others, or shameful? Could honesty be abused?

Well of course it can. And I don’t care. For me, life has become about conquering fear. There is nothing to be afraid of thanks to my faith in God. The only thing that can hurt me is death and even then I trust in my resurrection.

The only thing I worry about when I tell you I’m clinically depressed or have a messed up background is that I’ll be boring. I want to be brutally honest with my life. I want to live, as one prayer put it, “so honestly and fearlessly that no outward failure can dishearten me or take away the joy of conscious integrity.”

So you will keep hearing about my messed up self as long as it keeps helping one other person out there feel like she or he is not alone. There is nothing new under the sun. And in my estimation, the only thing you can do with a story that will be harmful is to hold it inside – hide yourself from the world.

I will not hide. I am naked. Hear me roar.