I mostly don’t feel like I need to offer an explanation when I’m absent, but still, I feel a teensy bit compelled. I was tired last night, and I had all these ideas and I started to write, but there came a point where I was too fried to make sense. I couldn’t make anything make sense, and so, I took a break. I probably should have continued writing despite my fatigue because my swirling thoughts kept me up anyway. I was wide awake for hours. Still, the lights were off, and I was supine, so that is that.
I was giving more thought, deliberately and inadvertently, to the idea of our stories; what they mean to us, how we tell them, and how we manage the potential fall-out or reactions. It’s a strange thing that they are our stories but once we tell them, they become a shared thing and then there exists a sort of obligatory accountability.
For example, if I share a story about an affair, I have to explain my rationale, the status of my feelings (i.e. guilt, excitement, etc.), and I likely have to be cognizant of who I might hurt in the process of my revel. Even when a story is something that’s happened in the past, the consequences could very well occur as if the thing has just happened. I’ve learned that there is often no time limit on emotional blowback.
You know what I’m talking about, no? You tell a significant other that you once slept with this other person that you could potentially run into and the shit hits the fan. All you can think is how ridiculous it is. You are with THEM now. You didn’t choose that other person. That other person no longer means anything to you. Why the drama? Well, there’s ego tied up into how we approach our relationships. There also exists unrealistic expectations, limited viewpoints (or tunnel vision), and sometimes it’s not really an issue but it triggers an unraveling that was set into motion by other events.
What might happen there is the next time, you decide to withhold. It might be a different fact altogether or an expansion on that thing you shared, but you mostly decide that the interaction isn’t worth it. See how easy it is to modify your story? To be embarrassed by or hesitant with your story? It takes one reaction. Sometimes you don’t even need to have that experience. Sometimes the expectation is enough. You have a feeling based on other interactions you’ve had or maybe you have a feeling just based on what you observe in the world around you. People have shitty reactions to things and so, you’ll do whatever it takes to avoid the triggering of a negative response.
There are so many ways in which we spiral out from here. The truth usually emerges at some juncture OR there is another catalyst that forces your hand, and by that time, things aren’t great. Too much time has passed, and things are awkward. Maybe that person is wounded that you didn’t open up sooner and your response is defensive. That’s just one possibility in a pile of many.
For those of you who know my story, the one that explains why I started this blog, then you understand I’ve made this mistake more than once. I was scared to face a negative response to the TRUTH of who I am, and so, I manipulated that truth. Let’s get real. I lied. I did. I made things seem more like what my significant other wanted them to be. I knew he would leave me if I told the whole truth and nothing but, and by the way, that was a sign. I should have told him to fuck off. I should have seen the red flags whipping in the breeze and hightailed it in the other direction. Instead, I flexed myself around what I thought he needed and wanted to hear to keep things status quo.
It didn’t work though, my plan to keep things awesome. Mostly this experiment failed because I was being a complete piece of shit. I was curating myself to be the version of me that he preferred rather than authentically being me. I spent a long time in that weird highlight reel space. I did it with him, but also, with many others. I bent myself into a pretzel trying to figure out who was the person that pleased everyone. Of course, I’ve pleased everyone but also, no one. The person they’ve attached to is not me and the energy it takes to keep up that façade is fairly endless.
I am not perfect. I don’t have this all figured out, but you bet your ass I’m trying. I am not spiteful or angry or self-righteous in my engagement, but I am purposeful. I ask myself what I want the interaction to be like and how I see the relationship. I don’t spot test my story to see if it holds up. I just own who the fuck I am and where I’ve been and where I mostly think I’m going. When I face challenges to that version of me (ME), I might feel insecure for a moment, I might falter, but I am doing the work to stand in spite of the shove. I tell myself that when you are living your life for you, you don’t have to do the exhausting work of remembering your story all the time. It’s yours and so, it’s always there.
I know this might feel redundant, but it is so important and so, I’m going to reiterate it over and over again.
I spend my days engaging with people who don’t own their story. It is a blessing to be aspirational. To set intentions. To imagine your life turning out a certain way. For sure. No question. But the need to whisper to the universe what you are, knowing it’s a false narrative, isn’t just sad, it’s dangerous. Believe me, I’m not calling you or that behavior pathetic. At all. I’ve done it time and again. But it is sad. You aren’t even giving yourself a change to be you. And if you want to change or move in a different direction, how do you intend to navigate that process when you don’t acknowledge your truest self?
I think we should be real fucking specific here, so you get what I’m saying. I tell you that I don’t give a shit when I am rejected on a dating app. It means nothing to me. Fuck those guys. But really, I’m decimated. I tank every time it happens. I feel sad and ugly and unwanted. I will likely never work on my insecurities or need for external validation because I’m too busy telling everyone around me how chill I am. Cool as a cucumber, while shattering into pieces on the inside. Not cucumber like. Not soft and pliable and agreeable. Brittle and fragile. Sharp. The tragic bit is that I don’t do anything to cushion those breakable insides. I just stay resolutely subscribed to a narrative that is very far away from who I actually am. I pretend myself into fucking up my relationships and hurting myself. It’s awful.
Like nearly everything else we chat about here, this process is brutal. Heart wrenching. There are two main reasons why this exercise of owning our story is SO terrible: (i) we tend to like the version of ourselves we created better than who we are and (ii) we don’t like disappointing or alienating others.
Here’s a wild thought…maybe you can begin to get to know and forgive and give grace to the you that you are? I am not talking about lip service. I am not talking about all the shit you say in the hopes that you will believe it at some point. I mean real, deal finding things about yourself to like. Little baby things. Start there. My butt looks good in jeans. I am a conscientious human being. I am a devoted sister. I love my crazy, uncontrollable doll hair. Maybe you can just find one thing, and that’s okay. It’s okay to not love every single thing about you, but it’s less okay to love things that don’t connect to who you actually are, and there is no reason you need to beat yourself up for not being that person.
Also, people aren’t going to like you. For a million different reasons. Isn’t having some people not like you for their own personal reasons better than having a bunch of people who like you because of lies you’ve told or a character you’ve created?
I know, I know. You want to just give me the answer that sounds good (of course it is!) but that’s not always the case, because the reality of things is so different.
What I might suggest is starting small. Think of the statements about you that you made today. Just take a beat and explore whether or not they were all true. Dig deep here. You don’t have to change anything right now. Just ask yourself whether you authentically tell your story and if you don’t, perhaps you can explore why? Just those two tasks, that’s all I’m asking. Don’t do anything about it just yet. Just a little look inside.
You can do it.
X
L.
P.S. Out of pocket for the holiday. Back soon.
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