You know you've done something right when you get a hater. It means you've told the truth.
The only hater I've had up til this morning was a loooong time ago, back in the day of companies taking your content, republishing and getting ad revenue for it. I objected, as I am wont to do. I got a response - from the company I "named and shamed" - saying that I was a whore and my son was the son of a whore. Charming. But not unexpected. They had a lot of emotional investment in what I brought to the attention of readers.
Bringing us back to today, another hater. On my Broken post. (I am hanging in there, by the way. Just. Not going to do stupid stuff: the kids, remember?) Go read that comment from Anonymous. Its a corker. Go on, I'll wait.
Some fucked up part of my brain automatically wants to rebut (oh! my brilliant legal mind!) every.single.point. I'm trying hard to shut it up, because there is nothing to defend myself for. Quite obviously, someone has a lot of emotional investment in what I have written. In my truth. I'm actually hoping to god its my husband's family, or there is one fucked up random out there who needs their own life to get invested in.
Let's get something perfectly clear. This is MY story. It is not the full story, nor can it possibly be. There are many things I have not yet written about (the full story of my spine for instance), there are many things I will only give limited information about (my kids, my husband), there are things I will never write about. I dont need to write the exact conversation had when MIL took my kids. The police have that record. I dont have to record conversations with my husband that devastate me. I dont need to write what I do or dont discuss with my health professionals. I DO have to write what is affecting me so I can get it out and try to process the emotions.
And that is what this blog is. It is me, with a tiny part of my truth, processing my emotions. If those emotions are too raw, too confronting, or too close to home, feel free to click that little X in the top right corner and go somewhere else. No one is making you stay here.
This is a part of me. And I'm not going away.