Can I write my diary like my blog? I took photos of my steak yesterday, but no other shots of people, the place, the event. There was a selfie by David as we left Vienna. There was a group photo at the end. There was that good talk with John Fenessey at the Restaurant over dinner. I told him how I have to respect my kids and end up posting only photos of my food instead of everything else I am proud of.

• Am I so insecure?
• Am I suffering a lack of confidence?
• DO I HAVE IMPOSTER SYNDROME?
• Or am I traumatized since becoming a Moonie?

Tick: All of the above! LOL. LOL? Laugh out loud? Really? Is this funny? Well funny curious, not funny haha. At 64 I am still going through self-discovery, self recognition, self cognition. Getting to know myself. In the car on the way home for some reason I shared the experience I had when we were in Linz and I went to the paediatrian with my son who seemed to have breathing problems.

Yes, I remember the reason. We were dropping Mitch off at the railway station in Linz and I mentioned that we had lived in Linz for six years. David asked what it was like and I said we lived near the Danube and it was nice to walk along the Danube with the kids. Three of my children were born there.

The story was about the air quality in Linz which at that time was quite bad due to smog in the basin and the steel works nearby. The other part of the story is my feeling of inadequacy as a mother and the paediatrician’s response: Do not take a guilt trip about never giving your children enough love! (All lung and breathing tests proved positive and everything was fine.) There is an Austrian expression: “Raben Mutter”. It expresses a negligent mother who doesn’t take enough care of her children. It refers to working mothers. At that time I was “only” working at home, with my five children and supporting Josef in the home office. I love my children. I am so grateful to have had five of them. I am also grateful that my mother had five. Even though I always wanted a sister. Then I wanted a daughter. I got four brothers and five sons instead. God had other plans. But in His wisdom and in my faith, I still believe that “God” knows what “He’s” doing! Oh, the punctuation! So much more coming out here. So much more to express.

It is Sunday morning and I got home after midnight. Yesterday I got up at four in the morning and at six I was on my way to Salzburg for the Toastmasters Division Contest. It was a full day of amazing speeches from incredible people doing wonderful things.

Maybe I should be posting on the Toastmasters FaceBook page and reporting on the results? Maybe I should check all my What’sApp messages and share the photos? Maybe I should really be doing something else? Well, I have done a few minutes of journaling and now I am going to have my shower before Josef returns from the Sunday Service. And not only maybe, but actually, I will learn those affirmations to replace the negativity of: “I am not a raben mutter.”

Thank you Mark Schaefer. I read your article after writing but not publishing the above.

https://businessesgrow.com/2019/03/19/ten-years-of-blogging/

Dear Clare,

Ask your conscience. Only you and your God know.

So much out there. Live-stream? Forbid it because one person abused a privilege? Atomic energy – forbid it because of Chernobyl and Fukushima? Guns – forbid them because of irresponsible users and owners? Elder brothers forbid them because Cain killed Abel?

Reverend Moon taught me that evil appears to conquer before goodness can prevail. We know the saying about the darkest hour before dawn; the silver lining in the cloud; evil prevails when good men do nothing. Well, thanks Mark Shaefer, Aletta Rochard and many others, who are encouraging me to tell my story. No, this is not about me. It is about every single individual person on this planet and human integrity, respect and value.

Do I have an inferiority complex because I grew up with four brothers? Or because they all had a bicycle and I didn’t? Or because I didn’t know what it felt like to be a winner, when I didn’t know how to write my essay (compostion it was called then) in primary school and asked my mother for advice. Was it her fault that I couldn’t express the required winners’ thoughts as an Olympic medallion winner, when she advised me to just say I ran anyhow but it doesn’t matter that I didn’t win? Was she putting me down because I was “only a girl”?

What am I trying to prove anyhow?

Well actually, I really do my journaling for my own peace of mind. Maybe I even have a secret fear of getting Alzheimers, or some other dreadful vestiges of the mini-stroke I had six years ago. Maybe these memory lapses and my intelligence and keen sense of observation will help somebody else one day. Well, afterall, this is all just part of my story. So please let me tell it. I was so afraid you would leave me in fear when you discovered I was a unificationist. Moonies they used to call us. Surely now I have proven my sanity, my integrity, my value as a human being. We talk about tolerance, love, understanding, equality. I have experienced the other side. Let me get it out. You know how easily I cry. The optician said it is blocked tear ducts. Let’s see what difference two weeks on antibiotic eye drops does.

This is actually quite fun. I think most people who read this will just get totally confused and won’t even bother reading to the end. So I am enjoying telling my story the way I talk and think. A million things at a time. My way. Will I have the courage to post it publicly?