all material possessions aside, here’s what i own… i own my thoughts, some sane, others not-so-much. i own my words. i own my actions. i stand by my words and my actions. i stand by my thoughts, some of which (very rarely) go unsaid.

i own my outspoken nature, the stubborn bull that is my taurus… unrelenting, and willing to fight to the death for a cause. fight for a friend. fight to be unsilenced, to continue possessing my voice. a brash voice. an emotionally-driven voice. a typically strong voice that occasionally becomes a whisper.

even when quiet, when hushed, i find myself pausing to reflect on what i will next speak of. the voice in my head. the constant writer. the unrelenting creator whose mind is never quite turned OFF.

and i love that. i own that.

this last week has been one that began with venomous hatred, pointed fingers, and judgments mostly under the name “anonymous.” true or false, those were your possessions… that is what you own. you own your hatred of me. you own your mistrust. you own your confusion. disgust. rage. apathy. whatever it may be that you have experienced and felt as a result of my words and my actions.

here’s the thing though… this is not about you. my experience is mine and mine alone. yes, my story is one that was shared with you all; however, it’s not about you. none of this has anything to do with you personally. none of you were with me in the atlanta airport, though you may think you were because you got a 9-angle glimpse from a video immediately released on the TSA’s blog.

the blog that said i had been contacted multiple times by the TSA (which i’m still waiting for). the blog that said i had gone into hiding during the 6 hours i was in the air, traveling to the west coast. had that blog spent the slightest of minutes taking time to actually read a few of my posts, look back a bit to where i mention a much-anticipated trip to the west coast, perhaps then they would own the fact that they were incorrect in saying i “went into hiding.” this is the same blog that led other blogs, like eyeonannapolis.net to refer to my story as a “kidnapping” and my husband as a “fighter pilot” (hahaha, i’m sorry. both paul and i laugh at that one, because even he was unaware that he was a fighter pilot).

the 8 hours that i was traveling last week kept me from giving so many people the instant gratification we all find on blogs, on twitter, on facebook and other means of social media. so you made it up. some of you concocted stories of your own about me “going into hiding” and about my son being “kidnapped” in the hopes of convincing people that my story was concocted and therefore false, and here are the 9 camera angles to “prove” it.

regardless of the “she said” vs “the video,” regardless of the implications, accusations, hateful words, loss of sponsorships (which again, if you went into my archives, if you even read my “about” page, you would know that i don’t do this for the money and that the money i make is peons… enough to buy this cup of coffee i drink as i write this post right now)… all of that aside, ownership is the lesson in all of this. and not just mine. but your’s as well. own your hateful words that continue to collect in my inbox, anonymous.

it’s so easy for us to hide on the internet, behind our keyboards and computer screens, isn’t it? what does that say about us as a society?

a lot has been lost over the last week or so… friendships, trust, dependence, and reliance on people… on me. and yes, it hurts. i own that hurt. some of you own it as well. many of you have made it abundantly clear already either in direct emails to me or in your own blog posts that you have zero intention of keeping in contact with me, continuing to read my blog, etc. and yeah, that hurts, but that’s your choice. you have taken it upon yourself to make that decision, own that decision, and there’s nothing i can do to change that.

i have no further insight to give you in terms of what took place in the airport. i’ve shared my experience. i own that. for some of you, i simply do not have answers to the questions you currently possess.

my truth was told, shared, tweeted out in the hopes of changing something for the better. i own that. it’s up to you whether or not you choose to believe it.

in terms of the tweets that have been photo-scanned (or whatever it’s called) and shared, the ones where i say “PAY ME FOR MY INSANITY… MWAHAHAHAHAHA….” c’mon. it’s twitter for christ’s sake. those of you who “know” me via blogging, via twitter, i believe and trust that you know those were in jest. and those of you who have written your own blog posts regarding those tweets alone obviously do not know me and have taken pieces of my story in order to create your own drama.

feel free to own that. just know that this is not about you. it never was.

this is about me owning my thoughts, words, and actions. owning my experiences. writing about my experiences and sharing those with whomever chooses to read this blog of mine.

and if you don’t like what you read. don’t come back.

one last thing… to those of you who have reached out and contacted me to let me know you’re thinking of me and that you care, thank you. to those women i have spoken on the phone with over the last 2 days, since i’ve turned my phone back on, thank you. to my VERY few but VERY stong male supporters, thank you for reminding me what is good and true in men.

as far as social media is concerned, they call it social media for a reason. it’s social. it’s not news. it’s sometimes fact and sometimes fiction and sometimes a variance in between.

close the laptop, even if only for 30 minutes. take a break from twitter, even if only for 10 minutes. step outside. remember your own truths. your own stories. own your good and your bad, your strengths and weaknesses because each one of us has them all.

this week has ended with sweet words and sweet friends, and yes, i have moved on from this experience. i have stepped away from my website, been able to focus my energies elsewhere, and it has been good. and yes, i have taken a xanax here and there because i have severe anxiety.