You Need To Know

I was so happy to share this blog with my family. I was happy that I gave my mom the link, and that she had the opportunity to check in on me whenever she wanted to. I was happy that she was reading what I was writing and talking to me about it. I wanted more people in my life to share that experience with me, to see the inside of my head, to understand what was going on behind my quiet, contemplative eyes. I wanted people to know the me that existed here, among these lines of realizations and observations.

So as more and more people began asking me about my writing, and myself, I began giving out the link to anyone and everyone who wanted it. It’s not that I mind sharing myself with any of them. I love that they can see this part of my life that has become so important to me. It’s just, I don’t know, that I find myself somewhat limited in what I’d like to say sometimes.

I read other blogs and hear time and time again how people wish that they could share their thoughts with the people in their lives. I didn’t want to have to wish that. I wanted to be brave enough to say, this is who I am and you need to know that. I wanted to be brave enough to say all of the things here that I’m not brave enough to say out in the real world. I wanted to be brave enough to be me.

But courage is a tough competitor. I can never seem to wrestle it down into me, and so what I find myself writing are not the words of admittance and honesty that I’d so like to release, but words of self approval that I wish I could more often accept. Nothing in this blog has been a lie, but it’s been a side of me that only plays one role in my life. There are so many other pieces of my story that I’m too afraid to admit, especially to myself. That, in and of itself, is a major factor of who I am. I am still a little girl who’s scared of reality.

As I read other testaments of truth, I find myself longing to express those things that I dare not speak of. Those issues with the way I look and the way that it haunts me, the way that it affects every move that I make in my life. Those issues with so desperately needing to be liked that I go out of my way to make sure that I don’t act inappropriately. Those feelings of unworthiness for everything good that I have that linger in my mind and soul every moment of every day. Those are the issues that I really want to discuss, to express, to open myself up to. Those are the pieces of me that I keep sheltered within the walls of my heart.

I’m not writing this to discourage my friends and family from reading. I’m so grateful that they – you – do. It’s just that I feel like I’m deceiving you, deceiving myself, into believing that I’m this wise young woman who has it all figured out. I’m not. I don’t have the answers. My life is not a constant myriad of epiphanies and beauties. My life has more to it than that. I have more to me than that.

I’m writing this because I know that this other part of me, this far less glamorous and inspirational side, needs to be expressed. I’m writing this in an attempt to muster up the courage to say all of those things that I need to say. I’m writing this to remind myself of the importance of dealing with the issues that I’ve put off dealing with for so long. Now is the time to deal with them. Now is the time to finally admit that this is who I am, and you need to know.