I'm sure there are people who wonder if I am really this pissed off all the time. I'm not, really.
In fact, I'm a walking contradiction, because I'm actually one of the most positive people out there. I may be the most optimistic cynic in the world. Or the only one.
I have been wondering the last few weeks why I keep doing this. Why I write about the controversial topics I do. Why I try to get people to pay attention to the subtle nuances in legal cases that the media often doesn't report on. Why I bother doing all this when I catch hell from people for it almost constantly.
Truth is, I don't have to lie. I'm not one to do that. Never have been. I don't need to.
Hell, I have so much personal integrity that I've been fired because of it.
Doesn't stop people from questioning it though.
Here's the thing.
I write about what I write because it is important. Talking about legal issues that might someday affect people who have no idea about them is important. Writing about the government's attempts to circumvent the Constitution is important. Questioning the media's coverage of international news is important. Sharing my stories of rape and depression and loss and everything else I share is important because there's a good chance someone out there needs to read something that tells them they aren't alone right now. Uncovering the ugly things that happen and exposing them to the light is important because I want my children to grow up in a world that holds itself up to a mirror, sees it's flaws and does better the next time, even if only because I talked about it.
There are so many times that I'm this close to throwing in the towel. That I promise myself I will go back to writing boring recipes and anecdotal stories about the kids. That I'll walk the center line of the world and do whatever it takes to avoid offending someone. That I'll give up the subjects I am passionate about to save my own sanity.
Then I get a message from someone.
Someone who is struggling with an eating disorder and who wants to get better. Someone who wants help.
Someone who was raped and never told anyone.
Someone who was a patient of the monster abortionist, who almost died, who never told anyone. Someone who thanked me for giving the women in this story a voice.
Someone who is battling depression and needed to feel like they weren't alone today.
Someone who misses her dad too.
Someone who lost a baby the same way I did and finally feels like someone understands.
Someone who is at their wit's end with chronic health conditions and needs support from another mom who gets it.
Someone who is afraid to share their outrage about something on their personal Facebook pages because of the backlash and comes to my page because it's the safe place where they can do that.
Someone who was disowned by their family because of their sexual orientation and now sees that there are people who will fight for them to the ends of the earth even if we've never met.
At every moment when I've been close to stopping, I've received one of these messages. Some of them have brought me to my knees. The more I open up myself, the more I take risks with these topics, the more people I am connecting with on a real level.
They are why I keep doing this, they are why I will keep doing this. They are why I won't stay silent in the face of injustice. They are why I will put a face with a story. They are why I will keep telling the ugly stories and exposing truths. They are why I will seek out those subtle nuances. They are why I will keep throwing myself under the bus, why I will keep opening myself up for criticism, why I will keep making enemies in real life.
I'm not just writing for me anymore. I'm writing for them, and I will keep doing it even when there is a price attached.
They are why I will.
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