Oh, hi.

Remember how I came back to my own blog so I could be myself and all that, and then didn’t write for a month?

Whoops.

It’s been, really, a sh*tty month. Other than the fact that I have an amazing, wonderful husband and amazing, wonderful friends and family that gathered for my 30th in a surprise-like fashion (which, technically, was still in September), October kinda sucked. I’m kinda glad it’s over. October has never sucked the way it did this year, and it’s NO ONE’S fault. However, it’s nonetheless disappointing, as it’s my favorite month of the year. Apples! Pumpkins! Foliage! Indian Summers!

And, like that, it’s gone.

Anyway, I’m not writing to be a pity party about October being less-than-awesome, because, whatever. September was awesome, and November is going to be awesome, and that more than makes up for it. No, instead, I’m writing about something that I should have – and, yet, in some ways, should not – written about a long time ago.

Writing is catharsis for me. Writing on the internet, to an audience, served to be even more of a catharsis for me. I kept a Livejournal for years, and quite honestly, it got me through my 20s. Not to say I wouldn’t have muddled through without it, but it was a godsend. Until I grew out of it, which is inevitable for many things. I overshared on there more times than I can count, and in 99% of those instances, I don’t regret it. In fact, there’s only one post on there that, if I had it to do over again, I would not have written – and even that, served a means to an end that needed to end.

It was a learning experience. Yet, sometimes, we don’t learn as much as we think we do.

I overshared, recently, on the Internet, and it came back to bite me in a big way. I deserved the fallout that happened, and in hindsight I’m not sure that the ultimate outcome was the Worst Thing Ever. I’m not going to rehash the specifics because, quite frankly, it’s irrelevant. I took a situation that was bad and I made it oh so much worse than it had to be. I’ll always wonder, now, if things could have been different had I done things The Right Way. Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe they would be different, but it still would not have been Sunshine and Rainbows – which, actually, I think is the most likely scenario. But, I’ll never know that for sure. And, that’s my cross to bear.

I was wrong. I did something hurtful. It wasn’t intentional, which I think counts for something, but in this case, what I think doesn’t matter. And, I accept that.

I’ve accepted the outcome of my actions and have tried to learn from them. However, the one thing I have not been able to do, is forgive myself.

Amanda wrote a couple of fantastic posts this week that really resonated with me. The first, about losing a friendship, and the second, about explaining yourself. Or, more to the point, NOT explaining yourself.

The former reminded me of my past misdeeds. The latter reminded me of why I need to forgive myself. You see, I felt the way I did for reasons that really did not need to be explained. Not because I didn’t need to give context, but because my feelings were what they were. Right or wrong, it was something I couldn’t shake. Trying to find a way to explain it so it made sense dug me into a hole so deep that I couldn’t get out of it, and caused the Internet Overshare From Hell.

And, now? I feel like I need to explain myself … to myself.

Which serves what purpose, exactly? I know why I did what I did. I don’t approve of my own behavior (obviously). And, yet, I continue to torture myself as if I can go back in time and redo it. I CAN’T.

The truth is, the whole incident opened my eyes to a number of things that ranged from directly related to hardly related at all, and while I regret my actions immensely, I don’t regret what the outcome has produced. I’ve learned. I’ve grown. I’ve become a better friend (I think, anyway). I’ve purged some bad habits that desperately needed purging. I’ve done some SERIOUS self-reflection. I’m working on conflict resolution skills and trying not to avoid awkward confrontations. (That’s really hard – but I think that’s hard for everyone, yes?)

I’m still learning, growing, changing. I’m getting there. I’m not there yet, but I probably never will be. I shouldn’t accept this, in that I should always strive to improve … but I should accept it in the sense that, I can’t improve if I don’t fall down sometimes.

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