I’ve described my uncertainty about the purpose of this blog in earlier posts. Some readers and friends encourage me to write more about writing, or at least reading, maybe even post some of my own work. Some find my commentary on music, artists, gear, practicing, and other audiophile related subjects entertaining. Others tell me that the handful of more personal posts, bits about my history, philosophy, faith and experience to be the most compelling, most interesting, most purposeful.
It is this compulsion I now address.
I do not want fame or notoriety resulting from being a Person Who Does Good Works. I do my bit anonymously most of the time because I do what I can, because it is right to do right. If I am truly helpful, then I will not be seen. Rather, the results, the support or the improvement will be enjoyed. Not me.
Backstage is my position. At my best, those onstage *shine* luminous and beautiful and I am unrecognizable. I do not wish my name or face to be mistaken as being more important or even as important as the ethics I represent.
Invisibility can be a design flaw, however.
I have seen things — lived through things — that destroy most people, especially when combined. Yet the people I have helped were helped because I allowed my history to become visible. I shed anonymity and shared myself.
Friends and family in my real flesh and blood life, not my online persona, have asked me to tell these stories more publicly, to step into the spotlight and demonstrate by personal example that one can change one’s stars. Predestination is a myth.
I step into this spot, then, to illustrate that isolation is fiction.
I survived child abuse, and do not abuse my child.
I survived rape and prosecuting someone I had thought was my friend, and am not a disassociated object.
I survived domestic abuse, and yet learned to love and be loved all the more deeply for it.
Statistically, I have been told that I should not have lasted this long. My mind, if not my body, should have shattered. It almost did – almost, but didn’t. The victim I was born to be did die – but the woman I am was born directly from that anguish. I would not give up those experiences. They made me, in part, who I am.
I did lose everything I was, everyone I knew, every place I had thought of as home. Yet, at this destination of loss, I did not see the abyss. I found possibility.
At that point, I chose to be kind. I chose to be free. To be passionate, honest, fearless and loyal. To live.
I’ve kept this blog light because it’s easier that way, easier to rant or joke or tease. The best parts of life are never easy, though.
A very public figure shared stories of his own journey through Hell. His generosity with his experiences became my example: if he could do it, it could be done. If surviving can be done, then I can do it, too. If I can provide a similar kindness for someone else, I would be honored to be visible.
There will still be silliness and absurdity and digression on this blog. But, it is time for me to begin to describe why and how it is that I am here.