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| If only this were the truth all the time. ** |
I had an interesting experience this weekend where a few people I hadn’t seen since last summer commented on how they read this blog. They were wonderful comments that at first, filled me with complete joy. Joy because they affirmed that sharing my stories made their days a little better.
I didn’t start out wanting to help or inspire, but as I’ve written and shared more and more of myself, I have hoped that all my failings and foibles could at least provide entertainment for someone else, if not outright relief or inspiration.
What started as joy soon led to an uneasy feeling that I could not quite identify at first. Then I realized, it was embarrassment. I have revealed a lot of not so pretty stuff on this blog and even though I knew very well going in that people would read it I never quite prepared myself for the day when I had to look those people in the eye.
It’s not that I’m someone different in real life than on the blog. On the contrary, I’m pretty much an open book no matter where we interact. However, in real life you tend to filter more (in my case way more) than you would in writing.
My writing has always been the window to my soul. I have used writing my entire life to convey things I could never find the proper conversational words for. I have written many a letter to loved ones saying things I could never say to their face. And even then, when we would meet again I would hang my head a bit lower.
What is that? Why is it that we feel when we reveal exactly who we are, we should be even a little ashamed?
Yeah, I’m not perfect. Who exactly did I think was confused about that? Yeah, I screw up (almost daily) but who doesn’t? Yeah, I eat too much. Sometimes I spend too much. I don’t always want to be with my kids and I almost never know for certain what I want to do with my life.
But I’m a good person. I care about my impact on the world and if I’m using my time to make it a better place. I love my family. I adore my friends. I make a mean vodka tonic and I’m a pretty fun person to have dinner with. I know people come here to read the good, bad and ugly. So why then, am I worried that when you know the ugly stuff, in real life you’ll decide to stop hanging around?
Please don’t answer that last one when I see you on the street.
** Photo Credit Sue Barr Photo
i'm your furniture. the good kind you don't want to get rid of. the bad kind you can't part with? whatever, you're stuck w/me. 🙂 xoxo
p.s. i love your good, your bad, and you couldn't be ugly if i did your makeup for you.
Aw! Thanks Leticia. It's funny, just as freaked out as I am that "real" people read my blog, I am the opposite about meeting blog friends IRL. I adore them already because I feel like we all know the ugly and still keep coming back. Strange dynamic! Oh and the picture is all Sue Barr-photog genius!
I'd never stop hanging around you- good, bad, or ugly- and I think the fact that you are so open and totally real makes me identify with you even more! And that photo of you is fab! 🙂