Usually I save the punch line for last. You know, drag you through a few 1200 words to deliver the goods or at least something that will explain the title.

Yeah, not today.

I watched  the season premier of  “Sister Wives” tonight  and I had an epiphany. I think I might be a blogging polygamist. Why have two blogs when you can have three? I mean, plural works for Kody Brown. It might work for me too.  I opened up Evidently and began writing.  You can blame the fundamentalist Mormons for what follows.

The time off  from this blog was therapeutic. Despite the fact I started another blog within days of turning this one off; my reasons for taking a break stand. I felt a bit hemmed in here. Trapped by my own voice, or lack of it.

Understanding that requires a bit of history. Ok, a lot of history. I’m making up for lost ground after all.

Back story:

Eighteen months ago, I decided, after years of debating, therapy, prayer, booze, ok not booze, to finally  go “no contact” with my mom. It’s a decision I know she does not understand nor respect. It’s a decision that was made for my sanity. I’m healthier person without the craziness. It’s not like I didn’t try. I did. For 20 years. And it’s not like I didn’t talk. I did, though I wasn’t heard. And it’s not like I’m asking her to change. She won’t, and I’m cool with that. But we can’t be in a relationship. Not if I want to stay sane. And sanity, my friends, is a good thing.

I hung on as long as I could. But when my brother stopped talking to me the year prior, and she basically sided with him with her silence, I had an epiphany.

I don’t have to do this any more.

It’s ok that she chooses my brother. It’s OK that my brother doesn’t love me. I’m actually going to be OK with that. In fact, admitting it, after all these years, makes me better than OK, it puts me on the road to recovery.

Not that anyone ever wants to lead with it. Most people in my situation learn early on that it’s pointless to tell their story to people who have even passing relationships with their parents. We’re socialized to believe that the parental bond is an eternal bond.

Sadly, it is not. People often find the idea threatening that the most primary of relationships can reach a point of brokenness that it is beyond repair. I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve suffered through of people trying to solve their own brokenness by trying to convince me that I should just give it one more chance. 12 steps, Jesus saves, nothing is beyond the power of God . . .

It takes a formidable amount of courage, especially when you’ve been raised with the word “selfish” emblazoned on your soul like a personal brand, to actually put your own sanity first. But that is what I did.

It’s what I continue to do. Despite my humor, it has not been an easy journey.

Which leads me to taking a break from Evidently. When I went no-contact, all of sudden what I was writing on this blog was interesting to my mother when it never had been in the past. Not in a “I really should keep track of what’s important to my child, “ kind of way. If that had been the case, she would be reading Mireio. Because, let’s face it, I’m completely obsessed with that part of my life! It was more of a “Oooh, I’ve never met a boundary I didn’t cross.” Which made the whole point of “no-contact” a bit moot, eh?

And I found myself censoring every word because of it. While I’m OK with my decision, I’m not OK with intentionally inflicting pain. Where does the line between telling your own truth get crossed into creating harm to another?   She may not be able to change, and I may not be able to cope with who she is, but I’ve never wanted to make things worse by what I write. I grew up with that being one of the biggest weapons used against me in any conflict.  And I’ll admit, the programming from childhood, “You twist things with your words!” was on a perma-loop for months.

It also seemed unfair. I’d already received emails claiming that what I was writing was “hurtful”—even on posts that had nothing to do with her. It’s her filter, and I can’t change it. But I thought it would be best if I could at least honor her fear.  And I tried. I tried myself into silence.

And I broke my blog.

In 2 short months, Evidently went to having hundreds of page loads (it’s still a small blog, really!) to having just 2 today.

One of them was from my mother.

I snorted my drink from laughing and had another epiphany. It’s my blog. I can say what I want to say.

I really CAN say what I want to say. All that censoring I was doing, well, that was ME doing it.

So, this is me. Uncensored. Well, partially. I’ve said the least amount necessary, I hope, to make my point.  I really have moved on. I don’t dwell on the past, it doesn’t invade my space like it did a few short years ago.  But I’m also not afraid to name the illness, to acknowledge the pain, and to step up to MY future. From here on out, the self-doubt that plagues me is of my own making.

We come full circle. A few 1200 words to make my point. I’m still not sure where the line is, but I know that stuffing how I feel and not sharing my life is moving in the wrong direction!  I love this blog, it’s a part of who I am.  I can’t control who reads it.

I’m no longer willing to be silent.

Notes:

Yes, I did start a 3^rd blog, and yes I will be posting on it regularly. Because I wasn’t kidding about the plurality thing. You can ask and I’ll probably tell you how to find it.

While this post is long (HELLO BOOK DEAL WHERE ARE YOU?) you can rest assured that Evidently hasn’t taken a turn toward the verbose. Or,no more so than usual.

On a total side note, even though I’m running amok with the terminology, I give mad props to any family of size that keeps it together. Being a family of three is pushing me to my limits. So, no disrespect intended to the Brown family. Besides, as we learned on tonight’s episodes, “blogs are dangerous” and the Brown family doesn’t read them as a rule. I’m pretty sure even if Kody Brown googles his name, he’s not going to click on this little blog.

If he does, “Um, Kody… I adore you man, but we need to talk about that hair cut.”

And really, I do have mad, mad love for the Sister Wives.