Reservation is Not a Weakness.

bukowski quote

 

In this digital culture of everything-on-display-with-immediacy, we can say anything we want and it might reach a million people in a day.

We can and do express and create and share ourselves freely, completely.

With so much information available at all times, with so much coming at us, we are easily overwhelmed with a million things to react to.

These screens simultaneously connect us and separate us, creating a fictional, two-dimensional world where we can “see” each other but not really be there.

I think it’s simultaneously freeing us and fucking us up.

I’m such a proponent of authenticity. But when it comes to sharing how we feel, I think that we sometimes confuse vulnerability and openness with reactivity and emotionalism—maybe even a little bit of narcissism.

I’ve certainly been this way, and I don’t judge people for it, nor am I asking people to suppress emotions or accept abuse.

We’re learning how to be open and honest, vulnerable and real, but we still need to understand when to choose our battles and how to step into them with grace.

But what if it’s sometimes in ours and others’ best interest to shut up and maybe even fake it a little until all parties are willing and able to have a reasonable conversation?

Expressing emotions is healthy and necessary, but we also need to know how and when it’s best to just take a step back while still facing the problem or issue (person) in question.

This offers space and objectivity in difficult situations—basically, a break.

Then when we’re ready we can step back in with fresh ears.

We now may more easily have an audience, but the flip side of this is that we have more responsibility to participate as attentive audience members as well.

A negative consequence of this sharing and connection economy is that we tend to talk more than we listen.

Or maybe we have always been that way.

Either way, reservation need not be seen as a weakness. It can be an act of grace and a tool of empowerment if we approach it in it the right way.

Ode to a surreal day

Every day in this town has been strange and dark and wonderful.

I couldn’t believe this one in particular, the way that one person reached out to me after years. I didn’t understand why.

We weren’t just “close” once—we were in love goddammit. Or at least I was. We lived together for a year.

Don’t you remember that?

I can’t believe that you offered me a boat ride,

I couldn’t believe how angry you were, how I saw that side of you when you didn’t know I was there, how I felt compelled to leave during your date because even if I was there, I may have been invited in and that is not something I want anymore.

I can’t listen to it and I don’t want to be around it because it’s so far from me right now. It would have been so natural a while ago, and now it’s so foreign.

I can’t anymore, with you, a person that I felt so safe with once.

That scares me—not that you were angry, but that that part of me is missing.

I can’t believe that more than one of my free-floating wandering souls are in town at the same time as me, that I may actually get to see you both in the space of the same short time span.

I’m one of you now.

I can’t believe that I saw you tonight, that you braved the traffic to pick me up and treated me to all of that beautiful dinner. And I forgot to take the selfie…I never really initiate that. I want it so much, but I’m so shy at the same time. But it meant a ton, spending time together this night.

I can’t believe how much my throat hurts and my eyelids are heavy and I want to run away from my escape already but not for good…just a few days. Just a few days to recuperate but then there might not be any more days left at all so I’m torn between now and never.

I can’t believe how damn tired I am, how the writing doesn’t come and I fly and I train and I walk and I dream and I rest and don’t push myself but still feel so so so drained.

How will I ever shake it to find my focus again?

invisible

{found on Pinterest}
{found on Pinterest}

Last night I had one of those “how long will it take them to notice I’m gone” moments.

Originally I had just gone to the bar to get a drink, but the barstaff didn’t see me either.

So, a little too drunk for a Thursday, I pulled an Irish goodbye. I walked up the street and got the best steamie in the world and walked home holding back tears and wondering why in the hell at nearly 37 years old I can still feel so small.

I wondered if some of my relationships seemed easy because there aren’t really deep feelings on the other person’s part.

I wondered if I’m worth feeling for.

I was in love with them and they didn’t really love me back. So now I’m not in love with them anymore.

I’m also far away from many people I love(d). That distance creates another kind of wall, and I’m pretty sure that it’s better this way.

Some people said they loved me and so I told them I loved them too. Then I would visit and be close and some of them didn’t really step up to be with me when I showed up. I mean be with me in a real way.

Not a sexy way, but a real way.

It made me feel confused and sad.

I’m really good at removing myself, but this isn’t something I’m proud of.

I’m really not good at being seen and heard—also not something I’m proud of.

Even hanging out with a best friend, I can cease to exist at the blink of an eye—or in this case, the shake of an ass.

I should have just kept sitting in this park.

park