Write.... right?

I like to write.  It doesn't mean I'm good at it.  I know I'm not really.  But I do enjoy it,  maybe perhaps it was a missed calling.  Meaning,  if I had went to school & learned how to do it well... well, who knows?    I don't know. & I know I know.... it's not too late.   Maybe though for me... this is enough.   I'm not sure if I made it a "job", I would get the same pleasure out of it.  If I knew I was being "judged" on it like that,  I'm not sure I'd want to. LOL!   Plus there's no pressure.. I get to do it when I want to & when I don't I don't.  It's awesome to know that you're free to write whatever it is you want.  That this is my blog & no one else's.  I own the words. The good, the bad... & in my case sometimes the ugly.   Doing this blog really does make me happy to write.  I don't know why,  I just get something from it.  A pleasure.  For me why I started writing was because my mom passed away too young & there were soooo many things I wished I knew from her,  I've said it before but she passed away at such a critical time in "our" relationship.    No... it wasn't like I was a child anymore who needed her in the same way, and maybe that's the point... it was a time when I was just becoming a mother,  when I could see us becoming "friends" see us becoming "equals".  There were soooo many questions I wished I'd asked her.  But I never got the chance.  SO many times I wished I simply had more of her.  OF her wisdom, or philosophies, or simply how she saw life.  What mattered to her?  What did she really miss, or love, or yearn to be.  What did she want, or see or regret?  A million tiny questions... that I'll never really know the answers to now.  So that was why.  I wanted my child to have some of those answered by me.  What I found out was that I enjoyed writing & sharing.  My only disappointment really is just I wish  I was even more of a "carefree" writer.   I wish I wasn't the type to care about how I might come of, or what another person thinks of what I have to say.  That I could be more free.  That I could share even more of my feelings, that I wasn't afraid of what others would think of  my thoughts.  Cause isn't that what I wanted to do.  But I think I'm just not brave enough to do that...atleast not yet.   Something happened a while ago that has made it even more difficult for me to share everything.   I shared a little story on twitter.  Which was simply shared to explain further why I wrote something... & someone close to me, took it completely the wrong way.  I was not trying to be mean.  But someone took it sooo completely the wrong way that I think it stifled my "willingness" to express things.  Or I guess I should say,  I let it. Either way... it doesn't make for the best writer?  Does it?      I actually am quite disappointed that I let it do that,  because I never doubted my actions.  I knew it was my story to share.  That I had a right to say it, & I didn't do anything wrong.  But yet still.. I know in some major way I let it affect how I wrote after that.  I allowed it to make me completely worried about "how" someone would take something I said.  Even putting this out here makes me a tad nervous.  It's silly really.  Anyway.... I hope maybe one day I'll be able to write freely, without my own limitations getting in my way.