And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to
–Anna Nalick/Breathe(2AM)
That’s the thing about doing this.
You can use my words however you want to.
Possibly against me.
I don’t get any words back, so how do I know what you’ve got up your virtual sleeves?
So why do I throw them out here where they can be seen by anyone?
Mostly because I figure that doing unimportant things that terrify me is really good practice for when something both important and scary needs to be done. If I can just get used to doing scary things every day, or at least uncomfortable things, eventually I will be braver over all. Trust me, I’m in need of courage. I’m a congenital runner and hider. Putting things out there in the open where people can see them is not what I think of as safe and easy.
So, is it working?
Well.
I’m still here.
I don’t know.
No. Not really.
Yes.
I’m still doing it.
I’m still uncomfortable.
No, I’m mostly still scared.
What’s so scary about this?
What isn’t‽
I am taking thoughts. And feelings. The ones that come out of my very own head. And putting them where people can just wander by and see what they are any time they want. In a certain mind set, I’m feeding people ammunition. For any purpose they choose.
My thoughts and feelings have always been held internally on a need to know basis. And there is no one who needed to know, in my opinion. But that made me sort of shrivel up and die internally, so I had to figure out a way to get them out.
I am not much at talking, but I like writing, so…
Here I am.
Naked brain and all.
Anything I say can and will be used against me.
Probably even in a court of law.
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
So what’s the deal? Why the angst about exposure all of a sudden?
It’s always in the back of my mind, of course, but something else did cause a bit of an increase in the level of worry.
During my morning mis-guided meditation (aka my morning commute), this song came on. One I don’t even particularly like. And it made me cry all the way to work. It hit me in the stomach at the part I quoted, but this is what made me start paying attention in the first
place:
In May he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
“Just a Day,” he said down to the flask in his fist
“Ain’t been sober, since maybe October of last year”
Here in town you can tell he’s been down for awhile
But, my God, it’s so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him, maybe I’ll just sing about it
So, sniffling up I-5 toward NW Portland, I make it past that and get to the last bit and lose it. Lose it, but singing along.
Why did I lose it?
Because I’ve known so many people over the years who’ve been damaged by something. Booze, drugs, life, whatever. The beautiful part of them still shines though. You probably love someone like that. If you’re lucky. Or maybe it’s unlucky. It depends on how tightly they’re holding onto that flask, or whatever their particular crutch is, and maybe how much you love them. Those people are so hard to not love. How do you not love someone with a smile that lights up a room? They’re so easy to love and so hard to deal with on a day to day basis. Anyone with a real or metaphorical flask in their fist is going to be prone to evasion. Slippery behavior. Lying, maybe. Or just not quite telling you the whole truth.
And I think everyone is like that in some way. Then I think of what the fat camp counselor said about most people having healthy coping mechanisms.
Do they really? Most?
It doesn’t sound right to me.
I put the song on again on the way home.
I sang along some more.
I still don’t feel very brave, but maybe I can put down my own metaphorical flask for a while and breathe.