There is something defiant, brave even in voicing the unfair things in life, in having the daring to put it all to paper or announce that this or that is happening. Its a way of disassociating, of denying unfounded guilt the chance to take hold, a way to stand up to things.
It takes it all out of the shadows, where depression and shame can thrive and pushes it into the cold light of day, where there is nothing to hide because nothing remains hidden.
However, once you have stared at the scary monsters long enough, once they neither diminish nor grow but sit there inanimate - then to continue to declare them is to volunteer yourself as victim. They won't go away, but they don't appear to have any immediate intention of killing me, either. Red alert is unjustified now.
I have some stuff going on (so who doesn't? Its November, which is statistically bad anyway, plus the start of a Grand Cross, a time for battening down the hatches no matter who you are.) I allowed it to exhaust me and scare me a bit, but I am not a victim, heaven forbid. As emotional aerobics, I am 'feeling the burn' and that can only mean one thing - tomorrow the weights won't have gone away, but the muscles I use to deal with them will be bigger and stronger.
Thanks to those who read - who allowed me to mouth off and review things.
I got the comments by email and I've kept them. There's no way I'd lose them, they helped so much - those attached to the post and the ones that arrived by other means.
There's treasure and then there's treasure.