The Difference Between Having a Thought and Publishing It

Lately, I feel like I've had a lot to say but no real desire to say it, if that makes any sense at all. I'm just never sure whether it's another one of my phases or whether maybe I'm finally old enough to understand why most people just keep their mouths shut.

That said, there’s a lot in the air right now, especially with all these Epstein horrors that were just dropped in our laps like flaming bags of poo.

Everyone knows it, and every day brings us all another batch of information that arrives preloaded with the expectation that we’ll do something with it. Comment, analyze, connect dots. Maybe just announce where we stand on it all, so other people can decide where they stand in relation to us.

And I guess I’ve realized I don’t actually care to participate in that part this time around.

Because the thing is, I actually know a lot about the occult, demonology, and what these people were likely trying to accomplish with all those atrocities they were committing on that godforsaken. And once upon a time, I'd have jumped at the chance to try to add to public conversation in some meaningful way by sharing what I know.

But these days, I think about having to field any comments I might get, troll comments accusing me of "struggling with mental illness" included. Or, worse, attracting the attention of people who don't want people talking about those things with such nonchalance, as I really don't need anyone siccing some pissed-off eldritch horror on me just now.

When I start thinking about all those things, closing the tab feels less like avoidance and more like simply choosing to leave the grocery store without wandering into an aisle I already know will annoy me. (Sometimes I just can't handle the fact that mayonnaise exists, OK?)

Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should

When you're a writer (casual or otherwise), you can't help but turn into a professional noticer sooner or later. Patterns jump out, and repetition becomes obvious, especially if you're also neurodivergent like me.

After a while, very little feels surprising. Power behaves the way power always behaves, and people do what people reliably do.

Once you see how something lines up — especially a something that seems to be confusing the infernal shit out of everyone else — there’s always a temptation to explain it. To walk everyone through the logic step by step, as though understanding automatically creates a responsibility to teach.

But understanding something privately gives you clarity, while explaining it publicly gives you an audience, and audiences can't help but arrive with expectations. I couldn't really tell you why I was interested in all that years ago and not now, but experience has taught me it's best to just step away when you're not in the mood to manage expectations.

Privacy Has Been Sneaking Up on Me Lately

And in places that have nothing to do with writing.

For example, our home renovation is more or less finished at this point. I have my gripes as far as things that weren't done the way they should have been, but all the big things are done, the clutter is gone, and the floors are replaced. This has definitely been the kind of project that once would have inspired multiple social media posts and probably also tons of picture shares.

But this time, I just didn't feel like sharing in much (or any) detail, so I mostly kept it to myself beyond a few casual mentions for context where needed.

I've been feeling that way for a while now, though, especially when it comes to things like posting selfies or sharing much of anything that could be considered very personal. I had a couple of e-stalking experiences this past year that I'm sure didn't help matters, but I also think it might be about more than that.

I guess I'm finally getting old and understanding why my parents never liked sharing much about themselves when they were my age. Attention actually kind of sucks a lot of the time. Even when it's positive.

How I Decide What Gets My Oxygen These Days

I fully get at this point that what I say publicly has consequences, and I'm pretty tired of consequences at this point in my life. So, if you've been in a similar place, you're not alone. Here's a peek at the filter I'm using these days to help things stay figured out.

I think about the aftermath, not the post

Before I write about something sensitive lately, I picture what happens after it goes live — the realistic reaction people might have, not the ideal one I'm hoping for (and pretty much never get).

Some good examples flying through my head right now:

• Emails that start with “I’ve never told anyone this before” (although I can't remember the last time I had the urge to send one of those or say that)
• Social media comments that read like invitations to co-host a podcast I did not agree to be on
• Messages from "friends" expecting me to be available for private follow-up conversations

Basically, if the imagined aftermath feels heavier than the satisfaction of writing whatever I'm about to write, I just fucking skip it. If I must, I might post some opaque artwork hinting at it or possibly just save it for my journal.

I separate "I understand this" from "I want to discuss this"

These used to feel like the same thing. They aren’t.

Understanding something can very well be a private achievement with me. But discussion turns it into a shared project that needs maintenance, clarification, and a willingness to keep showing up long after the initial insight (or the desire to talk about it) has passed.

I realized a long time ago that a thought doesn’t become more legitimate just because other people weigh in on it.

I notice when curiosity starts feeling like work

There’s a difference between curiosity that energizes you and curiosity that's on its way to becoming unpaid labor. And let's face it. That happens a lot these days, as there's always some Chad out there who insists on it every time a woman opens her mouth.

So when a subject potentially requires constant nuance management, caveats, and emotional buffering for people who are reading far more into it than I ever intended, I pay attention. That's where sharing stops feeling exploratory and starts feeling like customer support.

I don’t enjoy customer support. At all. I quit retail years and years ago for a reason, and that's it.

I just go ahead and leave some things unshared

This used to feel counterintuitive. Now it feels obvious, not to mention necessary. I realized a long time ago that I don't owe it to anyone to weigh in on a particular topic and that people aren't entitled to my thoughts.

If I want to share, I do. If I'm not in the mood to share (or can think of a good reason not to share, like with all this Epstein stuff), I just don't. No explanation. Do not pass "go."

What I'm Keeping

These days, I’m far less interested in saying everything I could say and far more interested in saying the things that actually feel worth carrying into the open.

I'm busy. I'm also old, cranky, and becoming more reclusive by the day, so I don't necessarily have spare time and energy to invest in every passing thought or idea. For that reason, I've learned to let some doors stay open, while others close quietly.

And of course, there's always the chance I could wake up tomorrow, really feel like educating people about demonology, and decide the Epstein files make the perfect jumping-off point for all that. I'm nothing if not full of surprises.