I've been mentally working on a post about vulnerability and how paralyzing it can be, my need for control of every situation, and how hard that makes sharing anything with anyone.

In a group therapy meeting last week I talked about posting on internet discussion boards, how anonymity is no shield against people's reactions. All this fear means that when I do write something I revise it within an inch of its life, sometimes more than once, and by the time I'm done it seems so ingenuine it couldn't possibly reflect my "real" self. I put perhaps too much value on what is uncontrolled (therefore by some kind of logic natural) because letting go of control is unthinkable for me. I don't know why I value being genuine so highly, though.

I wish I had written about vulnerability before thinking about it for days, because I'm no longer sure where that thought wants to go... I wish I could embrace it the way I've embraced other kinds of fear, with relish and exhilaration.

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