Pardon My Appearance

Pardon my appearance, I've been remodeling myself for the past seven months. I took a break from writing, opting instead to go within rather than present outwardly. I've considered writing about many topics, sad stories, sweet moments, or passing things I hope to remember but just couldn't write about. Again, all the effort - a h*llmouth worth of effort - went to tinkering around with the gears, belts, and gaskets of this human being.

A few items around this time were tough regarding writing. I've seen a few 'mommy blogs' go kaput around year 3, 4 or 5. Kids go to school. They become their own person, big time. Mothers get busy (busier? turn attention elsewhere? Saying "mothers get busy" seems to identify a persistent condition). I respect all that. But, where was my writing going? Down the hopper or just existing between my ears as a drove to some future soccer/scouts/choir event?

When I did write, I didn't bother letting anyone know. No Facebook, no asking Jared to review for massive typos. I have a few reasons for that, including slipping into a sleeping bag made of myself and my self-awareness. It was too difficult to present and represent myself while doing so much inner work.

Of course, none of this is particularly easy to talk about, but part of my work has been standing next to and in front of my fears. Checking them out, walking alongside them (hey, man, you've been with me for awhile, maybe I'll say 'hi'.), and seeing if they are all I've built them up to be. When I can, I let go. Otherwise, I say, "yeah, I'm afraid of that." Or, "come along." Or, "I'm gonna take you on, and only one of us is gonna make it. And, it's gonna be me."

One tremendous fear I have is The Fear of What Other People Think of Me. I have that one pretty bad. It's a chronic and occasionally acute condition. At this point, I don't think it's going anywhere, but in a good moment, I can address it. I can ask myself what exactly I'm concerned about. I can also see the good in it, that is, when it's not debilitating. In the good light, I give a sh*t about other people.

And so, in opening the big trap door, I'm letting you all know at one point or another, or maybe more than one point, I've been concerned about what you thought of me.

I recently and accidentally ground-truthed this with a stranger. Turns out the Stranger and I both know a Person. I like the Person. The Stranger did not like the Person. The Stranger let me know it, and let me know it over the course of a couple minutes. It was indulgent. I let the Stranger know I liked the Person, briefly.  

The take home message? From this conversation, I can deduce that Yes, someone has talked sh*t about me, too. Yes, there are people who don't really like me. What a relief, it's true. It's true, and it's no big deal.