I’m considering publishing some of my old written journals on the blog.
I found one of my old written journals from about 1o years ago the other day while unpacking some boxes. It was around this time I realized my childhood insecurities were crippling me as an adult. To say I was dysfunctional is putting it mildy. I was a mess! Oddly enough, most of my entries were optimistic. Often yearning for a better life, somtimes realistic, sometimes very UNrealistic. I kept waiting for something or more astutely someone to happen to me. I hadn’t yet contemplated the term of self-acceptance. My self-esteem and self-image were so low as to be non-existent. I was very skinny in a muscle bound world of gay men. Skinny w/a big butt. (Well, I thought it was big but, in hindsight, it wasn’t so big.) Throw in a heavy dose of low self-worth courtesy of my stepmother and you have a recipe for the classic dysfunctional adult. Not surprisingly, I lived at the whim of my emotions and desires.
I must admit, I’m a bit apprehensive. It was a time in my life when morals were foreign to me. I did things I’m not proud of. I was self-centered and selfish w/o even realizing it. Course, it’s hard to be moral and self-righteous when you aren’t sure where you next meal is coming from.
If I am to put my money where my mouth is, I should do it. Maybe my mistakes can help someone else.