Obviously, my posting frequency has taking a precipitous plunge. (You are not alone, Faithful Reader: so has my journaling frequency.) About two years ago the wheels starting coming off the apple cart for my family of origin. Last summer, as part of that unraveling, I discovered some truly heinous things. That knowledge, and the reinterpretation of my childhood in light of it, rattled me quite thoroughly and upended my life. Quite a bit remains the same, but quite a bit also changed. Perhaps part of it is that, in light of all the other, snarky movie reviews seem less important.
But that is not entirely it. As you obviously know, I tend to write with an acrolect in these. Beyond my penchant for archaic words and turns of phrase, there is a certain distance I adopt for my writing here. I am quite aware that I do not struggle with being too personal in my writing. I have to consciously remind myself that, even when I feel I am broadcasting my emotions at eleven, most people have not the slightest clue about my internal state.
Probably due to being (however unwittingly) a paladin I can be a bit, as someone once put it so eloquently, militantly defensive. My instinct is to hunker down. (Apparently I took Sacred Circle at level 2.) But a certain part of this can definitely be traced to my family of origin. My birth mother spent years explicitly trying to train me to show no emotion. (Presumably to better conceal the dysfunction.) Apparently she succeeded far better than I knew.
So I find it unsurprising that I am reticent to write too much about all that has happened and all that I have discovered. Yet I am unsure whether that is the best route. I will try to write more and we shall see how open I can and should be.
My Weirding 