What if you suddenly realized the whole world has been reading your diary?
I’ve been feeling that way recently, because I’ve had reason to go through most of what I’ve written over the last 15 years. A handful of my old articles left me feeling that I communicated an important idea in a clear way. I was proud of a few of them.
But the overwhelming feeling I had was that I’ve spent years writing things that I wish I’d never shared with the world.
When I write and publish an article here, I almost never read it again. Maybe that is a reflection of my origins in the newspaper business. As a journalist, we would simply write and edit the best we could in the moment — then send it to the pressroom and get started on work for the next day.
Lately, I’ve been writing a book, so I wanted to go through what I’ve written to find ideas I’ve written about that might belong in the book. I found what I needed, but I also found things that made me feel as though I’d left a diary open for the world to read. And it was a diary filled with hurt and angst and need and anger.
It’s been disturbing — not that I felt those things, but that I’ve allowed others to see so clearly inside my mind and heart.

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