We greet the day together

In this season of good will, reflection on past transgressions, and giving thanks, I awake this morning thinking about so many things. The frost crisp under foot as I fill the bird feeder, trees now bare, and that close-to-winter chill in the air. How I love this time of the year! Ada calls me from the porch while I am out beyond the fenced area and I smile to myself. Her soft cry is welcoming for me. Each morning, we greet the day together. Ada and my blog. For the past almost two years this blog has been a constant presence in my life. And still, I am not sure why I blog. Sure, it helps to write things down, and encouragement from other bloggers has been a surprise benefit that I was not expecting when I started out. I went through phases of guilt when I did not manage a post every day, or self recrimination when my writing was bad or few people commented on this or that post.

Lately, I write for myself. I simply enjoy the act of writing. Putting the words down, reading back, editing to acquire a tone I feel comfortable with, and over and over again being amazed with what lies within me. Because at times I start out with one idea and as the writing progresses other things come out. Often I am surprised at what I had been thinking. Yes indeed, I surprise myself! I am not good at small-talk and usually feel uncomfortable speaking on the phone for too long. However, when I write I give myself permission to express thoughts or ideas I have been acquiring and developing as I observe, listen and journey through life. It is, in fact, the safest form of self-expression I know.

And yet, while it feels safe for me to express myself in this way, my writing has often caused others pain or discomfort. Partly because I spend so much time outwardly trying to please everyone so that they will love or acknowledge me, when I finally get to say what I really feel it is a terrible shock and surprise for those closest to me. I watch, amazed, as they feel betrayed, as if I have been lying to them all the while. I, on the other hand, am always shocked that they were unaware I was feeling all those things in the first place. But how on earth could they know, if I never told them? If I smiled or giggled when all the while I was hurting inside? How would they know?

Telling my story, writing it down, these are ways that I am able to share myself outwardly. When I hold within my most intimate feelings, I withdraw or keep myself from others. One of the most important aspects about loving is being able to share those intimate pieces of myself, good or bad. And so while I could talk all I liked about the virtues of loving another, I was unable to give or receive love if I withheld myself so completely. And, of course, one of the reasons I withheld myself for so long was the fear of rejection. Giving away who I really was felt risky. What an understatement! It was more like I felt I would die from such exposure.

Sharing myself through writing, whether in blog-posts, letters, articles, or books, has become a release for me. The more I opened up those uncomfortable spaces in my psyche and exposed them for others to see, the more vulnerable I became for rejection. Indeed, I experienced rejection from some people, even as I expected. And, it was awful. Even excruciating. However, as long as I did not allow those few to become a confirmation for past expectations, or generalizable, transferable to everybody else, I discovered that I survived! Oh no, let me be clear. Much more than survived. In fact, I became free. Withholding myself was a terrible burden. Not only did I feel weighed down, lonely and sad, I was completely unsure of myself and my worth. Now, I find that the more I am able to share and give of myself, the more open I am to love. The more able to forgive others and myself, and thus, stronger in my self worth. And, I become more authentic.

There is no happy ending. It is a process of back and forth, development and regression, complex and painful, messy and wondrous all at the same time. But I do feel more present, in the now of living and experiencing real feelings. Not as numb or blocked out as I used to be, and certainly not as lonely or unsure of myself.

And so, while I feel genuinely sorry that my writing might have caused others pain, I am extremely grateful for it as well. For without self-expression I would still be locked away, on the outside looking in, yearning to belong, aching for love that eludes me over and over again.

Comments

[tamarika]

Winston, Kim and Joy,
Your comments are received with much appreciation. Indeed, they move me deeply and I feel almost speechless from your support, encouragement and understanding. Thank you all so much.

[Ampersand]

Wonderful post and writing, it captured my attention from the first sentence!

I feel so much of what you said here. I write as an act of creation. And I too, am often surprised with the revelation that arises in the writing.

I too have had to learn about hurting others. Living authentically, or as close as we are able to, does bring pain. But, for me, the pain of living inauthentically is greater, even if sometimes deferred.

I thank you for being willing to make your journey so transparent and for being able to capture the process so eloquently. It keeps me coming back for more :-).

Kim

[Joy]

This is an amazing post Tamar...one of your very best, I think. Cathartic to say the least...for YOU and the reader. You have figured it out. You know what hasn't worked for you in the past, and what does in the present. That's really all that matters in the final analysis. The pieces of one's life are complex. You've dug down deeply to investigate and figure it out...a place where many people won't go. Naturally, you've unveiled a lot in the process, and much of it is painful, but more of it's been good...for you. We, your readers, have been through a lot of this expedition with you. We've seen some of your life discoveries and read what you've uncovered about yourself.

What a beautiful journey for a very beautiful person....who may not have always believed that; but who may now be glimpsing its possible truth.

[Winston]

Over the past couple of years I have watched and listened and observed and felt your uneasy questioning of your writing, your purpose, your self. Along with others, I have offered up meager support in the only way we knew, with comments not intended to point a direction for you, but simply to keep you upright, to momentarily keep you from falling over until you found the answers for yourself. Like a father with the occasional stabilizing hand while the child learns to ride a bicycle. It seems you have done so. Your second paragraph starts:

"Lately, I write for myself."

and ends with:

"It is, in fact, the safest form of self-expression I know."

Those are the only answers there are. If that does not satisfy your need, then perhaps some other activity would be more pleasing. But I for one look forward to continuing to read your work, which is expressed with a candor and confidence not evident in your earlier blog writing. Your old blog title "In and Out of Confidence" said it all, but no longer applies.

And, yes, I agree with Jean ... you are a "lovely woman". I will add "a beautiful person"...

[tamarika]

Jean,
Thank you for your comment. And especially for calling me a "lovely woman." That was so kind and supportive. I think *you* are a lovely woman! Am always amazed by our parallel journeys and feelings about things. Can you imagine when we finally get together for a tea somewhere? : )