A Story to Tell...

 

Sometimes, I have a story to tell.

It has nothing and everything to do with me. By reason of being its author and because it is not about me. Or should that be the other way around?

Anyway, writing is cathartic for me and so I decided I would write and ignore everyone who reads me and decides what I am writing about, whether they are right or wrong.

I will not bother to entertain whatever they choose to do with my stories. I am bursting at the seams with these stories because I have tried to play the adult and not put stories out because they are sometimes misread (make that always).

The audacity of the ones who think they know what my stories are about never ceases to amaze me. As is famously said online, ‘are you me’? How do you dare to police my story?

If I say it is mine, why contest it? And if I say it is not mine, where do you get off insisting it is? 

Anyway, I have decided to take my power back and not allow you stop me from sharing my stories for two main reasons. 

The stories keep me up at night and I really do want to share them never mind who thinks they know what they are about.

Having clearly stated the foregoing, I want to keep writing and telling these stories so that I can go back and read them as I truly enjoy reading my stories. I crack myself up sometimes and some of the stories have no basis in reality.

So, write, I will. Never mind whose ox is gored.

I recall reading a story this morning on my Facebook page, 6 or  was it 8year old post and I laughed so hard. It had all the elements of a good story and quite a number of people interacted with the post and increased its reach and made it even more interesting.

This is probably why I had the thought that crystallized into this post.

I am not certain I have enough discipline to do content creation based on how intrusive that is but stories? I can do that! And I will.

I have been accused of reticence and I know that some of it is me wanting to not offend knowing that once I let rip, I may overstep bounds which is why I allow the gatekeeper of my mouth work hard. And while this may be a good thing, the flip side is that when I do say something, I am eloquent to the point that when I have no words, no one believes me.

I usually have a lag between what I feel and my ability to describe what it is I feel that appears to people who think I am good with words as a refusal to share what I feel.

I am unable to discuss how I feel in detail especially when I have not had time to sit with said feelings in my usual manner and assign scores and names to them. Also, I only reveal these things when I feel safe. I do not share my feelings with people I think are judgmental or who have called my feelings names they don’t deserve.

In recent times, I have seen people show wickedness in ways I never thought possible and it made me curate my circle and restrict access to some. 

In moving forward, I evaluate people and decide whether I want interactions with some when I find them close to people who have shown that they hate me. I am not able to enable people who have shown me shege and different levels of wickedness.