That in and of itself was a little scary, since it means I’m making a commitment to keep learning how to do this stuff…. Roadblocks of ignorance aren’t allowed to become roadblocks of progress all together!
But it’s also scary because it means I’m going to have to keep talking.
And talking is scary.
You can probably tell from this blog, or if you know me personally, that I don’t exactly have a problem with using words- I talk plenty. Concise summarization is not and has never been my strong point. (I was the girl who, given the assigment to write a 5-7 page paper, hands in a 7.5 page paper because I just.couldn’t.pare.it.down anymore. I’ve recently made peace with that. It’s so much easier to accept myself and work on improvements than to walk around wishing I just wasn’t like that, right?)
But as I’m learning and writing about gentle parenting, natural birth, and finding (sometimes very controversial) alternatives to the “way things are”….I keep coming up against this huge, dark wall in me-
The wall that is afraid to really talk.
The wall that is afraid of vulnerability.
The wall that is afraid to say anything bold myself, anything that might open me up to scrutiny, disagreement, rejection.
The wall that is afraid to say something decisively, because somebody might point out I’m wrong and then everyone will know!
I don’t like to say anything controversial until somebody else says it first. (Then I can just quote ’em, and the worst anybody can accuse me of is agreement with idiots, but at least they aren’t calling me an idiot because, hey I didn’t write it!)
If someone disagrees with me in conversation, I feel my insides shrink down to a writhing pile of insecurity and silenced defensiveness. So I’m usually really careful to say things with just a touch of non-committment.
Make sure to leave an easy-out if their face even starts to look like they don’t agree.
I think I spend a whole lot of time trying to be safe and right. Which means I’ve spent a whole lot of time refusing to own myself, to be present and real, and me.
And that sucks.
And it doesn’t work.
Because I’m here. For a reason. It’s me for a reason. So I’m gonna share me.
And that takes a little bit of guts.
But what really takes some guts is sharing me, and then inviting you to talk, too.
Come on and tell me I’m wrong. Tell me why. Tell me about you.
Thinking you could challenge me, criticize me. That scares the hell out of me.
It’s scary- coming right out and saying something that feels really brave, and knowing you might disagree. And then opening myself up on purpose to learn from you.
But, I already said it: I’m here for the long-haul, so I can’t turn back now.
This is really good for me, I can feel it stretching and tugging on all the quiet little places in me that haven’t gotten enough light on them to mature.
Inviting you to talk is like poking a bunch of holes in my cave walls, letting light in from all over the place.
The light’s gonna shine on the dark corners of me- and it might show some serious messes in there.
Or it might shine on some very loud, out-in-the-open ideas and go right through them, betraying their transparent facade and revealing the faults and holes on the inside, showing them to be nothing more than a silly sham.
Those holes are gonna let some scary light in, and no matter how much I try to prepare and save myself, I’m sure the light will catch some places off guard. It already has.
But those holes are also going to let ME see out.
In all kinds of directions.
See new ideas, new thoughts, meet new hearts, love new people, grow in new ways. And that’s why it’s worth it.
Because even though talking is scary…. shriveling up silent in a dark cave is way worse.
So come on over and poke some holes. I’m not going anywhere.