Mixed Metaphors and a Conundrum...

(Turns out that the following is a sort of continuation of yesterday's musings. You can watch me wobble again as I write, and ultimately you'll see me solve my conundrum.)

I recently posted some very personal things about myself and my current living situation. Then, I went away for a weekend and during that time, I gave some serious thought about what I'd written and why, and I realized that I really didn't feel entirely comfortable sharing quite so much. Perhaps I made myself far too vulnerable, and opened myself up to the harsh scrutiny of others. So I asked the advice of a couple of friends and loved ones, and got a variety of responses. Some felt that it was okay; some felt that I was "brave" for doing so; others felt it opened me up to the possibility of being taken advantage of in my vulnerable state. Still others questioned my motives. Hell, even I question my motives. Others fell somewhere in between. So......... seeking advice from others wasn't exactly helpful. Ultimately it is a decision only I can make.

Everyone has hardships in his or her life but not everyone blasts it to the world. I don't know why I feel compelled to do that, to be honest. Part of me genuinely feels that sharing might be beneficial to others, but part of me also knows that I did so for purely selfish reasons: I'm feeling rather overwhelmed and alone, and I just need to vent, and I need to be heard. But the things I shared are probably more suited to a counselor's office, not a public forum such as this. So, I reverted the two posts I was fearful of to draft. They're still there, and I can reveal them at the touch of a button if I so choose. Or I can edit them and perhaps share just some of what I'm going through. I just don't know. I'll sit with this until I decide.

In the meantime, today is a new day, another opportunity for a fresh start. As always, my plate is overly full but I will try my best to get by until the storm has passed. Yes, plates and storms are mixed metaphors. I can live with that.

So if I don't write about my life, which is the purpose of this blog, what then? What, indeed?

I have an appointment to get my roots touched up today. That should be riveting reading for those of you who follow my blog. After that, I have to take my dog to the vet for a follow-up because he has a skin condition. I know that will keep you on the edges of your seats! And in-between times, I have a million and one errands and tasks, some big (dismantling a life as I once knew it) and some insignificant. I could outline them for you. I know you'd find that fascinating reading.

Yes, I have some thinking to do regarding the direction I want to take this blog. I truly love to write, as it helps me to sort what's uppermost on my mind. Currently, that happens to be the eye of the storm I am living in right now. Maybe that's just too heavy to share. But I cannot write about mundane things and make it interesting. Nor do I have any desire to try to do so. 

So...do I write what I need to and keep it to myself? But what about people who publish their memoirs? I just feel like I'm writing mine in real-time, as I live it. And am I asking approval or permission to proceed? What is this all about? And why, oh why, do I live in my head so much??? I confess that part of me feels sad to not share it. But why? What does that reveal about me? (My brain is so weird. I wish, with all my heart, that I were "normal.")

Maybe, when I overcome my hurdles, I'll be able to write retrospectively and say, "This is where I was, and this is where I am." A sort of tale of perseverance and overcoming obstacles. Then it will be a story that is more palatable, more socially acceptable. And indeed, I have overcome many, many obstacles...mostly. My trials have definitely left their mark, but they've changed me in positive ways, too. Mine truly is a tale of survival. I've just hit a new bump, and I'll survive this, too.

I read an article that validates my reasons for telling my sordid story. In part, it states that, "We all have different ways we tackle the difficult parts of life. Some of us tell anyone who will listen, while others bury it deep in our souls. Some of us go into deep depression,while others just keep getting up over and over again. However we deal with it, I think that it is vital that we find a way to talk about it. If we can't share it at the time it is happening, we need to put a voice to it sometime in our lives, if for no other reason than to teach those who go after us that we are not alone in our trials." (Rachel J. Trotter, writer/editor at Evalogue: Life---Tell Your Story)

I have been every one of those people that Trotter describes. I've buried my stuff, only to have it come bursting forth in destructive ways. I've fallen into deep depressions many times throughout my life,but I do try to find ways to keep on keeping on, over and over again. But I do need to talk about it. It's how I process my stuff. And for reasons that even I cannot fully explain or even understand myself, I wish to do so here. I wish to be the one who "tell(s) anyone who will listen."

Another article I found in which the author's views about sharing happen to coincide with mine is this:

The Healing Power of Telling Your Story (link)

The entire article is definitely worth a read, in my opinion, but for those who might feel disinclined to do so, here are some excerpts that I find particularly compelling:

"When we tell our stories and others bear witness, the notion that we are disconnected beings suffering alone dissolves under the weight of evidence that this whole concept is merely an illusion and that millions of others are suffering just like us. They say misery loves company, and it’s true! The minute you discover that someone else is suffering just like you—or even better, that they’re celebrating their wholeness just like you—that sense of disconnection eases and you start to glimpse the truth—that we are beings of vibrating energy, connected on the energy internet through processes like quantum entanglement, with overlapping consciousness that connects us to a divine Source and to the Inner Pilot Light of every being on this planet (and perhaps others.)"

(Yes, the latter part of this, the portion that I underlined, is definitely "new-agey" psychobabble stuff, which I don't buy into, but my take on the underlying thought is that, basically, we're all in this together. And sharing reinforces the fact that "no man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main". Maybe I just happen to be part of the San Andreas fault... a little cracked but still holding on.)

Another worthy excerpt:

"The Power of Vulnerability:

In order to benefit fully from the healing medicine of telling your story, you must resist holding anything back. You must strip off your masks, be unapologetically you, ditch worrying about what “everybody” is going to think, and let your glorious freak flag fly. Otherwise, your story becomes a watered down, milk toast version of who you are.

As Brené Brown teaches in her TEDx talk The Power of Vulnerability, the gateway to intimacy is via being vulnerable about your imperfections. If you try to sugar coat your story, you miss out on the sense of connection with another human being that you can only attain when you’re letting someone see your warts and your big ugly tail. Every time you expose those imperfections—and someone loves you in spite of—even because of—those imperfections, you gain trust (or as Brené calls it, you “put marbles in the jar”). Over time, the intimacy you feel with other people depends on how many marbles are in your jar."

Do you want to listen? And do I really want to share? Hmmmmm..... maybe I will muster the courage to go for it 100%. Or maybe I'll just describe how I cut little slots in hot dogs to hide the medicine my dog needs to take. Either way, my hair will be FABULOUS!

P.S. (After several more hours of pondering and debating with myself...) I'm going for it. The two posts are published once again. I know that if this level of openness is uncomfortable for some, they'll simply turn away. Others might be drawn in, whether out of compassion, a genuine and well-intentioned interest, or simply to witness the train wreck, I don't know. Either way is fine with me. I will no longer concern myself with how my musings are received. I know only that I find it cathartic and it gives me pleasure. So... I'm going to ramble on...even though it really is a little scary. Especially since I have begun taking tentative steps in the dating world. This will certainly scare off the faint of heart and those who claim to insist on "no baggage." 'Cause baby, I got baggage and then some. But I'm also a great deal more.


Oh well, to quote the sage Popeye: "I yam what I yam." And I yam OK.