My greatest attempt

13 November 2019

I always wanted to have a blog. In the sort of way that anyone who has ever read a blog thinks, “I wanna to do that. I bet someone, somewhere will stumble across my life story and think it’s interesting.” I always planned on making one, but never did. Because in the back of my mind I just kept telling myself that I didn’t really have anything important to say. And I guess I don't.

I’m not here to say anything important or impart any knowledge or wisdom. I’m here because I realized I don’t know who I am. And I want to find out.

I think it kinda hit me the other day when someone disappointed me and it took me at least a few hours to put my finger on why I felt like shit. I had to slowly and carefully spell it out for myself that the fact that he bailed on our plans made me feel unimportant, uninteresting, unwanted, and unloved. Those are some heavy emotions and I wasn’t ready to admit I was having them.

And then I just decided to have them. Or let them have me, I guess.

All my life I’ve been proud of myself for being stoic, logical, rational, unemotional. Tough girl with a stiff upper lip who can take an emotional beating if I need to. I thought being able to suppress my emotions (or at least come up with a rational explanation for them) was what made me different. Strong, intelligent, low on the drama queen spectrum.

But as I walked home from work after the disappointing letdown the other night, in the dark and the cold, I simply let myself feel unimportant, uninteresting, unwanted and unloved. And I cried the whole way. And people saw me. And it didn’t matter.

And that’s when I realized something. I can’t open up to people. I can’t show people who I really am. The unpleasant, frustrating, upsetting, and human parts of me. And I want to be able to do that. But how can I if I can’t even tell myself how I feel, or let myself feel it?

Since that day, I have felt sadness, loneliness, regret, and all kinds of other terrible things. I actually felt them. And it sucked. And it’s okay that it sucked. Because feelings are meant to be felt, not controlled.

I’m here to write about what I hope will be the greatest journey of my life. The journey inside myself, past all the layers of the past, to the raw core at the center. I could be wrong, but I believe there’s something wonderful there. Under the blanket of beliefs I inherited from my parents, behind the walls I built every time a guy hurt me, under all the dirt and soot of my own self-limitation and self-doubt. Whatever’s down there has got to be better than this, in any case.

Since I still can hardly admit my feelings to myself, I thought an anonymous blog might be a good next step. Kind of like crying in front of strangers on the street, knowing the chances of seeing any of them ever again is pretty low.

So now that you know why I want to be here, read on, or don’t. The only thing I can promise you is my greatest attempt at authenticity.