There’s this place I keep coming to. It is familiar, even though it always looks different. It is scary and new, even though I’ve been here many times before.
It is the intensely uncomfortable moment before I get hurt.
Usually, this is how it works. I reveal myself – on blog, in a conversation, in a powerful moment of stunning connection – and in the space that follows, I panic. I am painfully aware of my vulnerability, and I am afraid I will be hurt.
In a way, these moments are all in my head since the thing that will hurt me – rejection, misunderstanding, ridicule, judgment – hasn’t actually happened, and in fact may not happen at all. The future is funny like that. Still, I’m like a deer picking up a hunter’s scent on the breeze. I’m tense, hypersensitive, ready to bolt. Occasionally (when cutting loose isn’t an option), I armor up, but the one thing I don’t do is stay right there, in that uncomfortable moment, armed with nothing but the authentic me I’ve shared.
I believe that to experience true intimacy, you must be willing to be truly vulnerable. I believe it, but I’m not good at it. I suspect maybe most of us aren’t. Once you’ve been hurt, once your heart has been broken, your confidence rocked, your innermost self held up to the light and totally misunderstood, you learn the value of calculation, of hesitance. You lean how to lead with your head instead of your heart. Self-preservation is a valuable tool… I believe that too.
And yet…
As I strive to be more present and honest and bold in my writing and in my life, I find myself in those moments – those scary, uncomfortable, this-might-really-hurt kind of moments – more and more often. It’s inevitable, I think. Out of the cave, I keep meeting creative, intelligent, talented people who are every bit as curious and way more fearless than I am. I am drawn to them, to their startling honesty, their fierce love, their rebel-rousing ways.
And so I’m trying to change MY ways. When I feel like cutting loose, I’m trying to stay put, trying to give the uncomfortable moment time to play itself out. I have a feeling I will wind up more bruised as a result, but also more dazzled, more touched by humanity, more connected, more loved, more alive.
Wild
I think that, what ifs and shoulda tried that thoughts will leave harsher bruising and scars in the future. Play it safe or take a risk? Risk may come with a little hurt and some people just wont get it. As long as I get it that all that matters.
You are one of a VERY few women I know who, though maybe not fearless, are willing to take risks – to try new things, to confront fears, to be open and honest, to truly connect with others, to leap into the unknown. I do not know if anyone is ever really fearless. I do believe that doing these things even though you ARE fearful is the definition of brave. You are an inspiration to so many people, j. I admire and respect you more than I can say. I am in awe of your courage, strength, determination and willingness to put yourself in those situations where you may be hurt. You live the way we all aspire to, but often are too afraid. Thank you for sharing your journey. Thank you for being my friend. And don’t forget that I am always holding your hand. Love you. *Big Squishy Proud of You Hugs*
Wow. Keep throwing your cards on the table j. You Rock! And speaking for myself … as someone who can definitely relate to what you have written here (is there anyone who can’t?) I would much rather have my feelings hurt … then to shut down and be closed to the possibility. Those moments of mind blowing love … even if followed by misunderstanding and hurt feelings, are what keep us up at night … writing songs and blogs and painting pictures … pouring our hearts out in an effort to get a glimpse of understanding the mysteries of our humanity.
Renee, You sound very Zen!
Dani, So sweet! Let’s just say that I am certainly trying to walk the walk. I’m learning it all too, but thank you for being here, holding my hand. xo
Jeramy, Yes, I tell myself that all the time. Angst is good for artists! (Which I know is not exactly your point. Your exact point is dead on.)
If you took everyone I know, and piece together all they know about me, you still wouldn’t get a clear picture of who I am. Hard as I try (which isn’t very hard) I get real uncomfortable sharing too much. I often walk away from a conversation with “damn, I wish I wouldn’t have said that” and it’s normally petty, silly stuff that makes no impression.
Will you still be friends with those who lean towards the antisocial behavior? Never mind, I’m gonna be trippin’ on what to say next time we hang.
Dear Judy,
I love your writing.
This speaks for all the blog posts I never wrote. Or wrote but never publicized. Maybe I’ll refer myself to this post every time fear stands in my way.
Keep shakin’.
Jerry, I like antisocialites. I’ve been known to hug them most compulsively.
Christie, You just made my day!
Tricia, I know. There are times (this one included) when I hover above that “publish” button for a long time before pressing it.
It takes courage to put your true self out there. You are braver than I.
Without knowing true pain, one will never appreciate true joy.
I think it’s those moments, the fear, that’s stagnating me from being brave, being “naked” on my blog. But it’s people like you that remind me that these illusions we call boundaries are but challenges to overcome.
I think it’s time to be fearless. It’s time to get “naked,” and dip my toes.
Mary, I’m certainly trying to be.
Ralph, I like that you said “appreciate.” I think that’s right.
Eman, I agree! You go, boyfriend! xo
Great post J! I think that everything you say in this post is spot on and yet… I find it hard to say yes. As someone who has faced and lived through a fair amount of pain in my life, I can’t chose this brave road. I mean I’m not special – I’ve suffered pain more than some, less than others, but for me – it’s been enough. Of course to be confusing – as I write this, I realize I share so much of myself here in your comments section – that I’ve actually revealed to strangers and new friends this past year, more than I had to anyone in the decade before. Maybe for me it’s really about moving slowly, maybe I don’t leap – I plan, I map, I review, I contemplate, and then I move slowly towards something new, always ready to retreat maybe, but more like slogging through. Sure it’s not glamorous, not the best way to make a change perhaps, but…
C
xo
Caroline,
What is right for one is not always right for all. Move at the pace that is comfortable for you. I am certain that you will have many who will be supportive of you and have your back. I for one will not let you fall.
I think we are all growing as we share together on these blogs. :)
Mary
Whether you leap or walk or crawl, you are moving! I agree with Mary ~ we’re all growing as we share. Love you, C! *Big Squishy Hugs*
Caroline, Actually, that was a sort of “yes.” ;-)
Ha! Yes I guess it was. In my rambling, circular way. xo
Your post made me smile!
Putting your true self out there, especially on a blog, for basically the whole world to see take more courage than we realize.
And though I do my best (keeping my real life self away from my blog using a pen name and not advertising it to real life friends) you’re still so much braver than I am… and I admire that, I want to be like that! :)
J., another lovely, vulnerable post. Risk is hard but so often worth it.
Estrella, I do pick what I reveal, especially on the blog. I don’t think it’s good to be absolutely naked all the time. It’s just that I want to be motivated by a desire to share, to be authentic, to grow and connect… not by a fear of being hurt.
Juliana, Thank you. I think even when it doesn’t work out, it’s usually worth it. Recently, talking to a friend about how shitty life can be, she said, “evolution happens in the shit.” It made me laugh, but I think she’s right.
It takes a leap of faith to reveal oneself…whether in a blog or real life, I’d say.
And truly scary. But it’s a good kind of scary because at the end of it all, sharing the tale is sharing the trust. And trust is a wonderful ingredient to add to one’s life. Oh, sure, there might be people who “hurt” you in the process.
But they don’t know better, and one can only hope they learn someday.
You have shown us once again that you are an inspirational and talented person.
The biggest regrets most of us have in live is the “I wish I had done this…” or “If only I had said that…” I’m sure we have all done things we wished we hadn’t but those experiences can teach us a lot whereas the regrets from what wasn’t done or said linger and sap our souls.
You are also a teacher who helps us find ways of looking at life in a new fresh way and I thank you for that.
Marisa, You are so wise. <3
Simon, Thank you! I could not agree more. I firmly believe that I will regret more what I didn't do out of fear than what I did do out of a sincere attempt to be genuinely me.
A brilliant, passionate post with which I heartrendingly relate.
Since we agree by choice that there is no cure, I can only offer this thought: maybe the discomfort and sometimes hurt remind us we’re alive. I’m pretty sure that’s a good sign! Hugs.
Louise, I agree completely. Alive and awake, and I’d rather be both than safe and sound in my cave again. Hugs back!