you can't write about this stuff

laundry from the cracks

Some of you have been following my recent journey through the cracks of the social care system here on Juvenescence. I haven’t written much about personal circumstances in a while and the reason for this is that I have been advised not to write about it by people I know and trust, some of whom provide advice in exchange for money so… I should do that. Probably.

*clears throat*

For once. But look, there are certain things I can and will disclose without fear of injury or insult. For better or worse at this juncture I feel I owe those of you who have subscribed and reached out and offered support over the last several months an update, because the fact is, a lot has happened.

As you know, I am not particularly reticent. I don’t like to be coy about the tough stuff. I detest referential vagueness, particularly in writers. Like I really properly loathe it — say nothing or say exactly what you believe to be the truth. If I’m not going to talk about something I don’t. If I am, I would much rather see the whole seething complicated mess laid bare than draw a tidy little chalk-line sketch. I’m not telling you this to win you over but because it’s how I am.

And yet, and yet. AND YET.

Sometimes reticence is called for and I am learning to be, if not guarded, at least a bit more careful and mindful of what I disclose. It does not come naturally to me (file under “enmeshment/mother”), but as friend Jill says, ‘Boundaries Leah! Boundaries.’ (She literally calls me up twice a week just to holler that in my ear.) If you’ve read my last book you’ll understand why, but “why” is different from an excuse — honesty without accountability is pointless in my view and sometimes the price is just not worth it. At the same time it feels wrong to say nothing at all so instead I’ll just say what I can, which is something but not everything.