I do worry that at times I may sound preachy, holier-than-thou, smug. I do not mean to. I write more for myself, to record my thoughts, emotions, ups and downs, trials, victories, failures, triumphs. To pull fleeting thoughts from Brain and commit them to permanent record. I write so I have a solid reminder of the good, the bright, the uplifting during dark days that are as inevitable as Oregon rain. I document my trials, my struggles, and my means of dealing with my demons. I write so I can find solutions to current crises in past actions.
I also write with the thought that my own struggles and victories may help others see that they are not alone in their lunacy. Help to show that there are ways to crawl back up from the abyss, fight through the road blocks that life throws in front of us, turn failures into platforms for epic change and growth. I flay open my psyche for personal understanding, and to share what meager fragments of truth I find there.
I also hope that, in some small way, I may show that small changes to self and our small sphere of the world can lead to great changes, understanding, compassion, love of self and love of others. And this is where I fret that I may sound like I have stepped upon the dais, podium, pulpit, soapbox, when I want to share my beliefs that we all have the power to change our world for the better. In all the infinitesimal gestures and acts. Kindness, caring, concern, giving of self. Small things that take very little time. The tiny pebble tossed into the still pond that sends ripples across the water. Maybe it is because I have been in the abyss. Maybe it is my ongoing bouts with my own Demons. Maybe it is the embracing of my own mania, melancholy, chaos, flaws, that makes me want to reach out and touch the world, leave a bit of myself, pass on what I have learned in the hopes of helping even one kindred soul. Acceptance of Perfection in Imperfection. Acceptance of Self. Love of Self.