It has never escaped me that I keep myself hidden away sometimes from my friends and loved ones. I have always known that I do it. I haven’t always known why. Anyone who knows the child I was probably remembers I was precocious and chatty. My parents tell me how I could be found in the shopping mall holding the hands of little old men asking for a boost to get a drink from the water fountain. But then, you know, life happened and I got angsty and things from a life I do not remember started to shape how I interacted with the people in my world. I chose to stay home on Friday nights instead of going out with friends because I thought it was better to save my friends from having to spend Friday nights in my company. I opted out of keeping in touch because when things are great I didn’t want to be accused of bragging and when things sucked I didn’t want to be accused of using a shoulder to cry on. So when the hell do you keep in touch?!
I’m not a total hermit or a complete social failure, I just tend to fall off the grid. I’m a little closer to understanding the why. Fear. Complete and abject fear of disappointing you or not meeting your expectations. I know this because we send out what we want to get back and I’ve been teaching myself the letting go of my expectations of others for years now. My expectations are mine. Yours are yours. A friend is helping me understand that I need to learn to give over to failure and be okay when it happens.
So here we are. I’m petrified you are reading this thinking “What the hell is this? What’s your point? And PS – You really should have paid better attention to Mrs. Zimmerman in both 6th and 8th grade grammar class.” They say blogs should have a focus and intention, so what is mine? Bear with me, I’ll tell you what the hell this is. This is my attempt to invite you to know me. The me me. Not the me you think you know but the me that I am now and evolving to be. (Yeah, I believe in evolution, if you don’t…this probably isn’t going to work for you). The me that has been too afraid to share with people who knew the prococious child or the angsty teen. The me that’s worried you won’t understand, won’t care, or won’t be able to see I’m not as I was. I’m as I am.
I’m doing things and making plans and working on living my life in a way that is full of choices I make for me. I would like to share that. You know, if you are interested that is…
So here I am, trying something new.