Has it really been this long since I’ve posted?!  I’m sooo sorry.  I have issues…writing issues to be specific.  I have A LOT of issues but for the purpose of this post I’m sticking to the writing issues.

First of all, the possibility of an active Jehovah’s Witness reading my blog and making it their mission to make sure that the organization is kept “clean” from apostate influence (like myself) scares the shit out of me.  Sounds paranoid you say?  It is, unfortunately, oh so true.  They really do pride themselves in keeping things “pure” in their community.  If you have been baptized in the organization and don’t walk the walk and talk the talk there is no room for you among the JW’s and you are indeed labeled as evil (further info on “The Big C” post).  So there’s that.

Then there is the whole childhood/angst teen trauma.  I used to write…a lot.  I wrote my first poem at age 4.  It was about my cat.  From then on, I wrote all the time.  Poems, greeting cards, short-stories, and even started a novel at age 13 (romance/mystery about 2 journalist-what did I know).  And then it happened.  I wrote something brilliant, beautiful, wonderful and, according to my hyper-religious family, absolutely demonic!   I was in 8th grade and had been reading Edgar Allan Poe.  I was absolutely inspired and wrote this 2 part poem about a dead person decomposing and having complete consciousness as it happened.  *GASP!* I know gruesome, but beautiful in a way.   At the time I thought it was the best thing I had ever written.  Because I had such a great response from my schoolmates, I decided to share it with my family, my mom specifically.  My aunt and uncle, whom I thought were totally cool because they were younger than my parents and didn’t have kids (devout JW’s themselves), were visiting from out of town.  They read it too.  They. Were. Horrified.  When I tried to explain about the Poe influence, my uncle quickly retorted that Poe was an opium addict and was heavily influenced by demons (according to JW belief anybody that uses drugs opens themselves to demons and their influences including possession).  Evil. Wicked. Ungodly.  Just some of the adjectives used to describe what I had written.  So basically at 13/14 I was told that the best thing I had ever written was a work of Satan and Jehovah God, my heavenly father and creator, hated it and it was a horrible thing I had done.  And just to drive the point home, and make sure I wasn’t inviting Satan and his demons into our household, my mom burned the original copy, the only copy I had, right there in the kitchen, in front of everyone.  It took me 3 years before I attempted any sort of creative writing again, 5 years before I tried writing another poem.  My writing never sounded the same again.

Now I stress and panic when I write.  Even writing a simple thank you or email makes my heart palpitate.  Twitter completely freaks me out and puts a kink in my colon.  But I’m determined to get over this.  I will not let religulous beliefs take away my passion away forever!…Even if it takes me 8 months between posts and gives me digestive issues.

Here’s my commitment:  From this day forward, till the death of this blog, I promise to write and post something at least every 2 weeks.  If you read this and you come back in 2 weeks and I haven’t posted (within a day or two since I do have a toddler running around), feel free to kick my ass!  Thank you.