This post made me feel really sad, because it’s exactly like you’re living one of my worst fears. I think I know what you’re feeling right now about your blog, because I have felt similarly before but to a lesser extent. And yeah, I think it is really brave of you to keep writing in public.

Anyway, when confronted with a similar but a million-times-milder situation, I chose the less brave route, and locked my journal. I’m a coward, but I don’t think I could deal with any fallout right now. I feel like not having to worry about this gives me the room to find my courage (again? or at all, perhaps).

The thing is, even when you shouldn’t have to do something, well, we live in a world where lots of things shouldn’t happen, but they do anyway. And sometimes you have to take the pragmatic approach. I love reading what you write – I don’t think you should ever stop writing openly. But maybe what you need is to create a new safe space for yourself, to write what you want to there, without worrying about any of this. Then, *after* you have written it there, think about what risks you are willing to take posting it here. I don’t know if that’s a useful suggestion, but maybe it will help make it less painful to write if you can separate out the writing from the worrying. Maybe you just need to take some time to rest from the struggle, and get some breathing space and regain your confidence.

I know things will get better. I hope you’ll start to see positive signs of that soon.

It is not in the storm nor in the strife
We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.

Okay, he wasn’t here, but I invited him. These lines have been going around in my head since I ably and calmly saved my family from certain doom this November, only to find that afterwards I’m dealing with emotional implications. And if I were strong enough I would feel fine now, too. Thinking of you with love, always.

So this is one of those posts that I flag and want to comment on because of course it breaks me and then I never get around to doing it because it breaks me. You know, one of those. The hugs, the sympathy – you know about them.

I adore you. I cannot speak highly enough about your writing. And there are things I want to say that I don’t know how to and don’t want to say here. And these are all a bunch of highfalutin’ I-statements leading up to the fact that damn I owe you an email.

Hoo.

It’s started over four years ago, and I think I put the nail on the coffin 9 months ago. I’m still suffering from anxiety over it. It’s so painful that to this day, unpacking the trauma will still cause me to cry until I have no energy left. I hear you when you say you feel damaged. I still feel damaged and I have only faith to rely on hoping that the damange is not irrepairable. I hear you when you say you did what you needed to do to survive. I want to let the forum know, it’s truly a fight for survival. I felt like I was gasping for precious air.

You said “The initial explosion didn’t kill me, but the little everyday grinding reminders might yet finish me off.” I get that. I had cease to function. The hurt had seeped into every fibre of my muscle and I couldn’t rinse it out. I think my face has permenently changed from the initial explosion as if the psychological trauma was physical.

I am happy to say that I found a place to heal. I’m not 100% better but I’m on my way. I survived and it’s the hardest thing I have ever done and the act I am most proud of. I’ve created my own psychological badge and wear it with honour.

I want to be here for you. I look forward to the day you create your own badge and wear yours proudly.

I am…overjoyed at the thought that you may one day have an impact on the learning and development of children around the world.

I notice that you seem to be implicitly assuming that those are the only two options; that reopening the discussion and coming to a conclusion whereby both parties are able to respect each other even if they wouldn’t make the same choices isn’t an option.

That might of course be true; you would know that better than me, obviously. I just wanted to make sure that you knew you were making that assumption.

My experience of coming out to my family as poly is that they still don’t really approve or understand, but I am patient & keep plugging away at it :) Which doesn’t mean having explicit discussions about it – just treating it as a part of my life which comes into conversation the same way as any of the rest of my life. And eventually they’ll get more relaxed about it. For me, that’s a way of asserting myself and refusing to lie to keep the peace, without actually pushing things into a pointless fight. I still find it bloody frustrating at times, that they *still* don’t really accept it.

Good luck – I know it’s tough.