A Good Question
My friend Leah asked me a really good question the other day. She asked me why I always wait for someone to ask me how I am doing rather than letting someone know. She wanted to know if it was because I don’t feel like I have any safe people. This was a really good question for me to figure out because I don’t feel like I don’t have safe people. But I have always been the person who sits back and listens to everyone first and waits to be asked my opinion or thought. A big part of that is putting others before myself. I think I am being polite or a good listener or whatever.
But another part of that goes way back to my childhood I think. Kids can be cruel and they were cruel to me. I have so many voices in my head telling me that they don’t care about what I think and I need to be quiet…that I think subconsciously I still default to doing that.
I think that is why I write so much of my feelings. And why I always write in the first person as if I am talking to someone.
Because I am. I am talking to whoever wants to stop and read it. But it has to be someone’s choice to do so…I will not force my thoughts and feelings on anyone. I have been rejected too many times for that.
So I put it out there in writing…because in some small way that is safer for me. I am allowing others to choose. And I can’t just let it all sit in my head because it sometimes threatens to overwhelm me.
But in other ways it is harder. Because people can read it and not respond to what you have said and you are left wondering. Do they care? Did they hear? Did I hurt them with what I said? Do they still want to be my friend after hearing that ugly, broken piece of my soul? Do they still love me?
So I have been trying to talk more about me. I have been trying to be more honest when someone wants to know how I am. And I am letting people into places I normally don’t pay attention to. I am trying to not always worry about how other people will hear what I say – and trust them- because they are safe.
So now the question I ask myself is – where does the writing piece fit in to this? I think I have to still keep writing. I don’t think I can stop. Even when all that comes out is darkness and messiness and brokenness. Because the world makes more sense to me when I write…and no one even has to read it. It helps me figure out me. But I don’t know what I am supposed to do with the writing either…that is the thing that I often just want to keep to myself. But others ask me to share it. So I guess I will keep doing that. Even though it is scary and hard. Maybe it is supposed to be that way.
But another part of that goes way back to my childhood I think. Kids can be cruel and they were cruel to me. I have so many voices in my head telling me that they don’t care about what I think and I need to be quiet…that I think subconsciously I still default to doing that.
I think that is why I write so much of my feelings. And why I always write in the first person as if I am talking to someone.
Because I am. I am talking to whoever wants to stop and read it. But it has to be someone’s choice to do so…I will not force my thoughts and feelings on anyone. I have been rejected too many times for that.
So I put it out there in writing…because in some small way that is safer for me. I am allowing others to choose. And I can’t just let it all sit in my head because it sometimes threatens to overwhelm me.
But in other ways it is harder. Because people can read it and not respond to what you have said and you are left wondering. Do they care? Did they hear? Did I hurt them with what I said? Do they still want to be my friend after hearing that ugly, broken piece of my soul? Do they still love me?
So I have been trying to talk more about me. I have been trying to be more honest when someone wants to know how I am. And I am letting people into places I normally don’t pay attention to. I am trying to not always worry about how other people will hear what I say – and trust them- because they are safe.
So now the question I ask myself is – where does the writing piece fit in to this? I think I have to still keep writing. I don’t think I can stop. Even when all that comes out is darkness and messiness and brokenness. Because the world makes more sense to me when I write…and no one even has to read it. It helps me figure out me. But I don’t know what I am supposed to do with the writing either…that is the thing that I often just want to keep to myself. But others ask me to share it. So I guess I will keep doing that. Even though it is scary and hard. Maybe it is supposed to be that way.
posted by Amie at 9:02 AM
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