Jugular vs. Carotid

 

Yesterday I was reminded of a blog that I had constructed quite a few years back that was dedicated to someone who meant the world to me (and still does), and within a few minutes of trying to locate the blog address, I was transported back to the memories & feelings of that time.

I plan on keeping that blog address to myself for personal reasons. But I liken that blog to a "Jugular Vein", and this one to the "Carotid Artery."

I say that as both vessels are crucial for one's survival, but one more "delicate in a way" than the other.

Jugular Veins, while "exposed" can pose a health threat, they are veins which when damaged, usually collapse and can prevent (to a degree) death by exsanguination. 

Carotid Arteries are much more complicated than that. 

Those, if cut or damaged, can lead to massive blood loss and death within mere minutes if not attended to by a qualified medical professional. So "exposing mine" here online in a blog that is made Public, is my version of it.

 Little by little I have been blogging about things I would never have told anyone, much less put in print on a public platform. Experiences and feelings that if used against me, would emotionally send me into a tailspin from which I don't know that I could recover from... until now.

I guess most people would call it being an "Exposed Nerve", whereas for me, my life and everything in it was something that I viewed that could "kill me." Not the case anymore as much. I'm still struggling in some areas, and others I have thrown caution to the wind and have a IDGAF attitude about.

So what does all of this have to do with that other blog of mine? Plenty.

In that other blog, I saw at how much I had held back on true emotions, feelings, and much needed information. I held back because it hurt to feel the true weight of everything I was writing about. 

While I didn't lie on those posts, there was a great deal of what I didn't say. 

I guess I didn't feel that I needed to be THAT honest; especially assuming strangers or maybe even the person it was meant for, would read it. 

I had abandoned it for years as there was some major life events that happened in my family so blogging was something that I didn't find to be a priority, much less something I had time to dedicate to.

I tend to get kind of "long winded" and end up with a mild form of carpal tunnel by the time I'm done typing. 

Still no excuse. But that was my reasoning for abandoning the blog at the time. Do not ask me why the old one came to mind to me that day, I have no idea why. Maybe the person it was written for was on my mind. They never have not been. 

They were one of my very best friends in the world and so many times when something happened in my life, I wanted to run to them (and my folks) to tell them what happened, going on, etc... 

Now, I have neither. I just have myself and that has been quite the adjustment. So has allowing myself to express myself openly and truly heal from a lot of things. 

I allowed myself to go through the whole blog because I had largely forgotten exactly what I had written all those years ago. The basic theme I never forgot. 

It was filled with messages of love, apologies, and best of all: memories. Some of my mom that I had forgotten.

Forgetfulness has always been a way of life for me, so blogging helped keep those memories intact. I'm glad I typed those posts and kept them 💖 

If I had to do it all based on my own memory, I'd be screwed.

Maybe that was why I cruised on over to that old blog... There were good memories with my mom and I in there. One of which where I took her to a restaurant that I went to with my friend many years ago, and it turned out that it was the same place that my dad took her for a first date many years before.

I never knew that until she said something, and I am glad that I took the time to write it down. 

It was a rare occasion that she and I shared that was a GOOD memory. Those I am desperately trying to hang onto. That blog post sparked that. 

There were photos that I long forgot about that brought a smile to my face, and some posts that brought tears to my eyes. Showing that in that moment, I was indeed in a lot of pain and could have used some professional help. Even though I was already seeing a therapist, she was not nearly as helpful or effective as the one I have now. 

If anything, she didn't do shit. Just took my insurance money and gave little to no help. 

There's a memory I'd like to forget.

I'm proud of myself in a way. Proud of myself because instead of repeating the pattern of saying just enough but not all, I have done the opposite here. 

I have been not exactly forcing myself to be an "open book" for all to see, rather than allowing myself to be OK if people know the good, the bad, the ugly about me, and the things I have been through. 

Everyone has stories that they are not proud of, myself included. That old blog reminds me of that time in my life that I was not the best person, period. 

It serves as a reminder of what I don't want to be, and to remind me of the friendship that I once had. That people like that do indeed exist and to hold out for those, instead of the ones who "breadcrumb" you. 

Like the saying goes: "Know who is Gold, and who is simply Gold Plated."

I wish I could discern better between the two 😔