I was recently talking to a friend about being vulnerable. Or, rather, not being vulnerable. It’s no secret that I’m not good at it. I hide my past, my pain, my failures, my shame, and my fears. I hide them until I can make them pretty and polished enough to post on this blog. Until they’re no longer ugly and sensitive, but scarred over and complete with a bow, ready to be presented to anyone who will pay attention.
I was given a challenge by my friend – Next time I write in my journal, share it. With no edits, just raw and vulnerable truth. Continue reading →
It has come to my attention that many of you, yes you, even if you don’t know who I am, have gone to other people to find out how I’m doing.
You can’t ask me yourself, so you have to ask my friends. Or my mom. Or I guess you could ask me, but I wouldn’t tell you.
You don’t actually want to know, do you? You just want to gossip. You want a spectacle. You want something/someone to point at and go ‘look at her life, it’s worse than mine.’ You want a story, to be entertained. That’s all you want, right? You don’t actually care about me. You’re not asking out of love. You’re not trying to honestly figure out how I’m doing because you care so why should you get to know? I won’t be your spectacle. I won’t be your gossip or your horror story.
But what I realized last night is maybe you actually do care. Maybe you actually do love me and you genuinely, honestly, want to know how I am.
I have to give my roommate, Zoe, so much credit for my thoughts. They’re my thoughts, my opinions, my feelings and emotions but more than 80% of the time, conversations with Zoe helps me understand them. I could have a huge, pressing problem that I wouldn’t know about until Zoe helps me sort through my feelings. I’m getting better at it, my emotional maturity is slowly getting higher and my vocabulary to explain my thoughts is growing, but I still rely on Zoe or my counselor to help me through the jumbled mess in my mind. It takes multiple conversation’s sitting on my counselors couch or on Zoe’s bed for me to be able to say out loud “Oh yeah, I’m really insecure about that.” And then Zoe just laughs and goes, “I’ve been telling you that for years.” Continue reading →
I was looking at how many views my blog gets, and I noticed something.
The more personal a post, the more views it gets. If I really get uncomfortable, the amount of views shoots skyward. This was not good news to me. I was not excited. I did not go “Oh, well then I definitely need to start being more personal!” because no. That’s not something I do. It’s not something I can handle. In fact, the idea wakes up my anxiety and gets it screaming again. I have to calm myself down. And recently I found out why.