Thoughts on me writing now

   I'm sitting here in the customer lounge at the Honda service center in San Francisco waiting for the recalled passenger side airbag in my car to be replaced.
   I first began this blog entry two days ago while sitting in a coffee shop, and quickly discovered that writing about this subject, me, is difficult.
   Normally, I begin with a subject of sorts, even if it's only a loose one, then proceed to weave in my thoughts and feelings about the thing. The writing is always of course about me, whatever the subject, but to begin with an 'idea' seems to keep me just enough from the rawness of my own feelings to make me more comfortable, and therefore a bit easier for me to write.
   I'm not trying to maintain here that writing should be easier, or that it should be anything in particular; only that I find that being still and completely available to myself makes it hard for me to be.
   I have just realized that I have been avoiding the subject again, so back to it.
   I am still sitting in the same chair that I began this piece, and I am aware that my breath is shallow, and that I am feeling both frightened and sad. Although I have a certain confidence in myself at this very moment, I'm not sure what part of this sense is true and what is defense. I only know that when I am still and really thoughtful, I can feel the child in me that is so afraid and unprepared to be in the world.
   It really takes some effort and concentration on my part to focus on the things in me which I want to avoid, and I continue to work at it. It is my belief (and hope) that an increseased knowledge of what is really going on with me will help me to not be so blind to why I think and act as I do.
   That being said, as I am experiencing some of those feelings now, I can't say that it feels good.
   To be truly aware of my fear and sadness makes it hard to face the world. I imagine going out into the street at this moment, no longer sheltered from it as I sit here in the service center's lounge, and I am fearful. It's apparent to me why I have developed so many techniques to avoid myself, and pleased in some way that I have not yet perfected how to unravel them regularly.