*(featured image) me dancing in traditional wear in Namibia
One theme of most personal blogs is to get personal with the audience. So here goes.
I don’t like to get too personal. It has always been hard for me to share what I am truly thinking and feeling. The closest I come to opening up is when my soul is bleeding out onto a page through my writing. Even then it is vague. Case and point, halfway through the first sentence of this blog I switched screens and spent an hour creating a playlist for tomorrow’s class.
I am able to share with close friends and at camp on the last day. I am able to share in my journal. It is scary to share. It means someone might see you, all of you. Even those dark and stormy parts. The ones you’d rather let pass by like a hurricane, covering up the damage best you can when gaping holes are ripped into your heart.
I used to be good at tearing myself open and letting people see. But gradually all those padded rooms keeping the crazy in have been wrapped and rewrapped in caution tape. I don’t know why this is. Experience I’m sure. One person or another told me to keep my mouth shut, another called me crazy. I saw others get ridiculed for their sensitivity and watched movies where I was shown it is “cool” to be mysterious and coy.
Years ago my friends and I were in the city (New York City for all those who endearingly call some lesser city “the city”) waiting for a light to change. A little boy was dancing next to his parent, excited for a pretzel. Overwhelmed by his cuteness we all stared and laughed with joy, maybe remembering how it felt to be so unburdened by the need to be “appropriate” and “grown-up.” One of my friends let out a laugh that could have been heard around the world, or at least to the next block. The little boy looked up, startled, stopped dancing and ran behind his parent.
That’s what happens to us all. We dance and sing and squirm and cry. Until someone tells us not to. I’m ready to dance again.
(I realize that this doesn’t really get that personal, but I’m on my way. Baby steps.)
Share your feelings about getting personal. Is there a moment that you recall that made it not ok?