"My shadow's shedding skin and I've been picking scabs again.
I'm down digging through my old muscles for a clue.
I've been crawling on my belly clearing out what could've been.
I've been wallowing in my own confused and insecure delusions
For a piece to cross me over or a word to guide me in.
I wanna feel the changes coming down.
I wanna know what I've been hiding."
[Tool, "Forty Six & 2"]

Long ago, in my first online journal, I went through the arduous task of digging deep into my darker side. The purpose, even if it wasn't initially clear to me, was to face what Jung might refer to as "my shadow": those elements of myself with which I'd not made peace. By systematically discovering and exposing before the world those things about myself with which I was most uncomfortable, I forced myself to face them, to shed my shame, to love who I was and who I was becoming, and to shed light into my darkness.

That personal journey was a dark one, but I survived, evolved, and became a better person for it. Sadly, because the journal's primary purpose was to document my own insecurities or short-comings, it quickly became a dark and difficult read. Even now, accepting of these elements of myself, I seldom revisit my own writings. To me, they are of a darker past I left behind.

My second online journal was intended to be a counter-balance to the previous one. Both graphically and lyrically, it was intended to be more upbeat and to show the world what the previous one hadn't: that I had a lighter, happier side, just one that didn't as often inspire writing, and that I wasn't as morbid or despairing as reading through endlessly dismal passage of my first journal might imply. My second journal is no longer online, though I kept a copy for myself. I considered it largely a failure, simply because it was too forced: my inspiration to write at the time was still largely rooted in frustration and angst (which I chose to ignore rather than write about and exorcise), and instead I required myself to find happier subject matter on which to write. This is not to say it wasn't "me", just that the experience was not as rewarding (for me). There were still some nice pieces here and there.

This, my third foray (or fourth or fifth nowadays, if you consider some of the lengthy breaks I've taken at times), is not simply a better picture of who I am at the time of my writing this (though it certainly is), but I'd like to think it's also a more balanced one. It's not balanced because I force myself to write with more balance; that would simply recreate the problem of the second journal with different parameters. It's more balanced for two reasons: first, that I've come to be more at peace with myself over the last number of years, and so to spend less time dwelling on my darker side and more enjoying my brigher one, and second, that I've become better at finding inspiration in those positive elements in my life and in expressing that joy.

All that brings me to now.

I've done a lot of reflection lately, and feel in some ways like I need to undergo another bit of "evolution". Perhaps there are a few more shadows yet to dispel, and a little light must be once again shone. But before I even begin another catharsis, great or small, understand that I don't hate my life or who I've become. Quite the contrary. I enjoy who I am. I wish I should share myself with more people. I revel in the simplest events in my daily life. I cherish some of the most mundane moments. I don't desperately search for a moment's joy or bask in a depression of my own making. I live. I love. I endure. And I enjoy doing it.

I love who I am. I just refuse to see life's journey as a road to a door, but as a path to the horizon instead.

I'm just ready to take a few more steps.