This quarantine has me feeling like a lobster in cold water, slowly coming to a boil. I am uncomfortable and I can't put my finger on why. I'm tired and lethargic and a little bored all of the time. Concentrating on work only comes in short, 30 minute spurts on which I jump and complete as much as possible before the focus disappears again.
At the end of a respectable workday, say 3:00 or later, I begin to feel relief that I have made it. My favorite part of my day is writing in my blog or working on writing other projects. Until recently I've not thought of myself as a writer though I've frequently kept journals and I love expressing myself. I was an engineer and good at math and somewhere along the way I was told that language and math used different sides of the brain. My math skills surpassed my language skills therefore, by default, I wasn't creative, a writer, or cut out for storytelling. Yet here I am, writing and creating.
My blog is secret. I don't have my real name anywhere and I even created a disguised email. Yet I'm still afraid of disapproval. What if you stumble across this and read all my entries and think I'm repeating myself? What if I am a pessimistic downer? What if writing about my marriage is boring? What if I am boring? How many days can I write about missing Husband #1 before it makes me pathetic? These are judgements I'm putting on you, the nameless, faceless reader, yet you aren't even there! You don't even exist! Those are my judgements and shame about how I really feel. I'm terrified that all of these things are true if I share my true self.
I'm generally a well-liked person. Not well-loved, well-liked. The difference is that well-liked means most people generally like me because I am agreeable and I become a chameleon for who they want me to be. Well-loved is when people know me, know my disagreeable sides and they love me. Not in spite of my ugly sides but because of them. Being truly loved is when someone knows I've been through a type of hell, either self-inflicted or otherwise, and love that about me because it has created who I am today.
It occurred to me today just how much of a chameleon I am with my Tico. Immediately after the discovery it occurred to me today just how much of a chameleon I am with my mom. I can open up to my dad and my sisters and share with them most things that I can write on this blog. My mom? When I told her I wanted to write something she said, "Hmmmm, you've never been much of a writer."
I admire people who can post political posts on Facebook. I admire people who can yell "I have to own the fucking relationship with this client, I need you to fix this presentation!" I admire when someone shares a strong opinion, especially an unpopular one. In other words, people who can stand in the face of adversary with confidence and know, this person doesn't agree with me. This person doesn't like what I'm saying, this person might not like me for saying it and I will say it anyway.
My challenge in blogging is to continually share a true side of myself. I know I have to. I know holding it in and continuing to be a chameleon is causing me the shame and panic and anxiety that I'm sick of living with. If I can't be fully self-expressed in my blog then where can I be fully self-expressed? If I can't repeat myself and deliberate and agonize over things of which I have no control for hours on end, things that are my truth and real thoughts, if I can't be myself here then where can I? I know sharing my authentic self, even anonymously, is a relief and helping me. I can feel the liberation of sharing myself. Thank you for reading and being willing to know me.
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