I always believed the best medicines hurt. My mother would pour that brown bottle of peroxide on my scrapes and it would fizz and burn. It felt like it was working - killing all those nasty germs. Getting sober can be the same. First comes terrible boredom as you spent all your time drinking. There is this huge void in your life you now have to fill. Then comes the incessant urges to drink. "One drink will not kill you," you try and tell yourself. Us alcoholics can't have just one drink as they always lead to more. Finally, it hurts to write or talk about it and to admit I was that way. You want to forget that chapter of your life, but to forget is to repeat. God knows. I don't want to repeat the pits of despair that was once my homeless, alcoholic life. The best medicines hurt and you learn and grow from the pain.
I've noticed a pattern to my writings lately. When I am happy, I write of Maggie, relationships, cooking, and food. All joys in my life at the moment. I think this pisses some people off when reading the snide anonymous comments I get. It is easy because of my schizophrenia to get paranoid about those comments, but I have long since learned to ignore them. All the popular or well read blogs get them. There are people that would love to tear you down - to disparage your writings and your life because they have little else to do. And yet they still read. I did the same with The Homeless Guy after he threatened to sue me. I never liked him again, but would still read his blog like some sick attachment I couldn't let go of. He finally quit writing anything interesting and I quit reading as well.
I've just come from a very early breakfast at the Waffle House. I quietly sat in the restaurant eating my omelet and toast as I sipped piping hot coffee and thought of things lately. That is when I came to the revelation about my writing and how I write when I am happy. I am at my most vulnerable moment where I am sharing my most intimate thoughts and desires. That is when the detractors step in like wolves in a wolfpack over a carrion carcass to tear apart the muscle, sinew, and bone that are the blogs of my life. My point is that this is all a learning experience and the best medicines hurt. I can allow others to take away one of my greatest joys of writing and sharing it, or I can continue to share my life everyday with those that have grown to care about me and have become my blogging friends. I think I shall choose the latter. To hell with the detractors.