Being myself
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What does that even mean?
I just got back from another night of “one of THOSE nights” for me, one where I nervously talked enough to safely say I dominated the conversation and spilled all for the sake of being “authentic”. When I come back from those nights, when I am just spent and soiled and bewildered as my “self” returns to me, I feel like I can sympathize with the Saints of old that would chastise themselves or whip their own bodies or something. I’ve got the dueling cavaliers on either shoulder the entire evening, telling me what to say, what not to say- made particularly nervous and unlike me by any one in the group being extra quiet. That’s weird for me too because I seem to feel like the big sister who has to make friends for the sake of those who go unheard, like if I just share something else and keep the conversation going then eventually the egg will crack and every one in the group will relax and be themselves too- although I am the last thing from relaxed or myself at the moment, the only difference between me and them being that I can’t shut my f-ing mouth. And when the group dynamic can go on without me and every one is laughing and carrying on their own conversation, I very rarely wish to join the topics because I love the fact that I can just sit back and watch it happen and NOT have to share my example or experience of whatever particular subject happens to be on the table.
BLEH!
I thought the self-wandering, identity seeking phase ended with puberty, but clearly my insecurities are fresh and bare for all to see, mostly ME.
I recently watched Ms. Beatrix Potter, and there was one point in there where she is being told about her foolish decision to purchase a farm and, (after living under an insufferable social climbing mother, losing her (unapproved of) first love to death, and simultaneously turning her “little stories and paintings” into a best selling children’s book), she tells the man that she is “no longer in the habit of being lectured to”. Something in me was like “Yeah!” when she said that; I cheered her on in my heart because I absolutely love those characters at last embracing being okay in their own skin, having no explanation to give to any one about what they do with their time, money, love, faith, etc etc etc. I have very few balls when it comes to stuff like that. I don’t want to disappoint people, in general I want people to be comfortable and happy and possibly even like me, but at the same time I don’t compromise “being myself” (whatever that means) when I’m around them anymore, not very much anyway.
It used to be that one friend knew me as a proper, faithful lady and another knew me as a fiery, talkative eccentric (which made for an awkward time when the two met and we hung out as a threesome- who to be, who to be?) And I can remember this time last year making it my goal that this facade would end. Welcoming myself into the blog-osphere was good practice- which person would I present to the masses- family, friends, in-laws, strangers, co-workers, church peers- they would all have access to this little URL and would all have to get used to one and only one Vivian- some days completely safe and other days a crazy rant of a post- and I would similarily have to allow it to happen- even force it to happen, for the sake of being consistent. That means I can’t hang out with a family member and tell them, “oh yeah, those crazy mom’s checkin their kids toys for lead paint!” because I AM that mom and I already blogged about it. See what I mean? Every one gets the same story- they begin to get used to it OR stop getting to know me if they so choose, but in the end I have no apologies or explinations or back-peddling. What you see/read is what you get.
Yep, so my “home community” has this link and people I’m trying to get to know and would prefer they come to like me can read all about my insanity right here and that’s that. My husband, come to find out, passes it along to members of his family I’ve never even met, (like, can’t he just give them our FLICKR account if they want photo’s of Lil’ E??? I mean, really, this is my PERSONAL weblog) but then I’m faced with the self-coaxing again: okay, I will make the conscious decision to not adjust what I’m thinking/feeling at the moment to cater to one particular audience (as if that many people even read my blog! My stats say about 350 average it daily, and I’m thinking most of that’s bogus or my own navigating to approve comments, lol!) but you get the drift. It’s a great tool if you choose to be indeed “personal” with it.
Larry Crab, in his genius book Inside Out, has helped me with this a lot too, and so armed with this agenda of being authentic, non-private, communal, imperfect christian I do NOT behave differently around my husband, (ie. bat my eyes, soften my voice, hold his hand, in front of a group of people when that is NOT how we act alone. I treat him nearly exactly the same, except of course that at home I’m more prone to raising my voice 
) and I try very hard not to behave differently as a parent. I find that usually people are relieved to hear my stories of horror at my own failings as a mother and wife, that some one like me has allowed themselves to be known and they no longer have to wonder about what skeletons are in my closet, or worse, whether they are all alone with theirs.
The more I get to know people, it is so so so true that every one is just as nuts as I am. I mean, the people I would have hands down said were pretty “together” have been the ones caught in the worst addictions, the ones who deal with very little of their own childhood hurts or marital problems, they have the biggest melt downs and live a life that is false so it builds up and builds up and then they freak out in rage. They want people to know so little about them that no one can ever truly “get in” and when they do, it is so shocking what they see (because such a different person was presented to them all along!) that they don’t want to revisit the friendship again.
Didn’t Christ teach a different way of being? Was he worried what people would think when he washed feet, touched lepers, called Pharisees a “broad of snakes!”, overturned TEMPLE tables, or stood up for a woman (presumably naked) caught “in the very act of adultery”? Were the early Christians, who met in backyards and sang songs together and shared everything and sold all their possessions- were they particularly shy about “airing dirty laundry”- for crying out loud they were likely sharing the clothes off their back, not to mention all of their sins and struggles laid bare. The culture of the first followers of Christ did not leave room for pretension or saving face regarding financial means, marital happiness, parental perfection or spiritual enlightenment. It was all hangin out there, ugly and gross, so they could together join hands and GROW.
Being me: I have no flippin clue what that means sometimes. Is the me I think I am just a persona too, am I just the product of my environment or the predestined personality of the Creator, or the physiological make up of a bunch of random DNA molecules or where the stars happened to align at the moment I was born? Some of this is fairly far fetched, of course, but personality theorists have gone even further in their guessing!
My thought is that I’ll start to figure it out after the me I present to others gets embarrassing, humiliating, but in the end and as I already stated: consistent. And that, at least, I think I’m starting to have going for me.
On a completely other angle, I AM aware that my limited knowledge and experience makes me no expert, even on myself, and that many wiser souls than I might conclude that the more self-forgetful, ie. self-LESS or NOT CONSCIOUS of oneself we are, the more we will actually be “ourselves”.
In the meantime, I admit that I really envy the fly on the wall, wishing I could revert back to the timid Vivian I once was, whose face turned red when eyes were on me so I never contributed a thing when not completely comfortable with those I was with. But its sort of like Egypt- once you have grown beyond that point, you’ve got bigger demons to deal with and more of that “much is given” to wrestle with. Oh my gosh, I’m going to quickly end this post before I start saying something that sounds way too much like Peter, a.k.a. “Spiderman”’s Uncle: “With great power comes great responsibility”.
Crap, too late.
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