I think I need a confessor. But not a priest. For some reason I have changed in a way that I only just noticed yesterday. I used to keep things to myself (I think) and either really didn’t want to tell people or at least refrained from telling them. Now, however, I can’t stand not telling *someone.* Of course, it isn’t usually just anyone. But I realized that I can’t keep it in. I try so hard just to deal with things internally but I alwyas want outside input. It is awful…some things I don’t want anyone to *know* but it still takes effort to prevent myself from telling them. I am constantly squashing the impulse spill everything going on in my head to whichever friend is stopping by my room or talking to me on the phone. Maybe I really do want people to know. Or maybe I can’t figure things out and want advice. Or maybe I just feel better when I “confess”? I guess the fact that it feels like confessing, or sharing a secret says something about the kinds of things I’m dealing with. If I thought there was nothing wrong then it wouldn’t be a problem to tell people, right? So it is only when I have some feelings of guilt or insecurity or inner turmoil that it feels like “confession.” At the same time, I always have to consider the fact that what feels “wrong” to me might not elicit the same response for another person. So if I tell them and don’t phrase it as a confession, then maybe it is fine becaus…no, I’m justifying here and it won’t do. I better stop.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Rowyn's intermittent blog
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