As I approach the mid-point of my life, I realize that I’m done with pretense. That doesn’t mean that I’m rude but sometimes I do lean towards oversharing or strategic bluntness.
I spent so much of my life as an overachiever trying to always exceed everyone’s expectations. Then I became a parent and quickly realized that things aren’t nearly as rosy as they seem from the outside and there is a lot that no one talks about. In fact, as a woman, I realized there were a lot of topics that nobody ever talked about.
When I had my miscarriage I became so aware of how much we don’t talk about. I decided that I would lean on the side of risking oversharing for the sake of normalizing topics that are important to me.
I try to be that friend in my circle who is unembarrassable. (Is that even a word? If not, it should be) Bring me your awkward medical stuff, marriage struggles, and messy feelings. I’m here for it.
One of the great privileges of my life has been to be able to walk through pregnancy loss, spousal depression, and struggles with neurodiverse kids with friends, having had my own experience with them. (No two experiences are the same, but I never mind talking about it or not talking about it. Whatever helps).
I would summarize my husband’s personality as “doesn’t do shallow small talk.” He’s a quiet, introverted person who likes to go deep with a few rather than keep it casual with many. For those of us in his circle, it’s an honor and a commitment, especially for me as his wife.
As I get older, I understand more of why he feels the way he does. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to figure out who was real and who was fake. I don’t want anyone to ever wonder that about me. I may sometimes be too honest or speak my mind aloud when I should keep it to myself. But I hope the people in my life value that about me.
I’m headed for a milestone birthday in the next couple of months and it’s been making me think about what I want to do with the rest of my life. I want to be real, about it all. The good and the hard, the beauty and the pain.
It’s sad that our general reluctance to talk about hard topics means that people try to hide painful things rather than share that they need some help or encouragement. I’ve also learned the value to myself, my family, and my friends of being able to talk or listen about any subject with honesty. It’s not comfortable, but it’s honest. Visiting from #7
I’ve sort of gone the other way. Tired of cancer, don’t much want to talk about it, or, by extension, anything serious.
To me the hard things really don’t
matter in the very least.
Talk about them? No, I won’t,
for the nature of the beast
is to take over life and thought,
to build a dwelling in my heart,
and though it’s something that I ought
to embrace, thus play a part,
I have too much now on my plate,
and therefore choose to keep it light
behind a chained and padlocked gate
that holds back the starless night
while shallowly within I party,
in laughter that’s both true and hearty.