How much of myself do I give you?
There is so much I want to write here. There are so many topics, so may words I could use that would paint a picture of who I am and how I feel. There are things I should tell you so that you can understand why I am the way I am. There is so much of myself I could share.
I could tell you tales of my family. They are a confused, high-maintenance bunch that have me battling insanity most days. And on some days I find myself actually welcoming it as a means of escaping them. I could go into heart-wrenching details, explained in words filled with bitterness and anger, memories edged with passion and pain. I could describe my reactions, positive and negative, to the things my family does. I could, in fact, weave you a picture of my family life that would have my in-box full for weeks.
I want to. I want to use this space as a sort of therapy. I want to think of all of my nameless, faceless readers as anonymous. I want to think of you as my support group. Can you picture it? I walk to the front of this virtual room and say: “Hi, I am Paloma and my life is screwed up.” And all of you would respond: “Hi, Paloma.” And then I would tell you everything that was wrong with me and my life. And all of you would be sympathetic. You’d be supportive and understanding and would give me the pity and compassion I crave right now.
It’s very tempting.
I cannot, however, bring myself to forget how public a forum this is. Even though I can’t see you out there, you are there. And I don’t know who you are. You could be my mother, my sister, my ex-boyfriend, my next employer. You could be my next-door neighbor, my boss’ friend, my distant cousin. You could be a real person, someone who can affect my real life, someone who could confront me about what I’ve written. And I don’t do well with confrontations.
And once I tell you something, I can’t untell it. I can’t take it back. Even though I can change my mind and take down the page, erase the paragraph and revise the original post, I cannot make you unread it. I cannot make you forget that I told you, wrote here, whatever minor secret or major scandal, personal item that was making me obsess on that day.
So what am I doing here?
I guess I’m doing the same thing in this virtual world that I’m doing in the real one. I’m trying to figure out where I fit in. I’m trying to define my persona, trying to mold a real person from this big clump of clay. I’m trying to etch away the bad parts, throw them in a bag and dispose of them for good.
This is a work in progress. I haven’t decided what to do here. I haven’t decided what purpose it will serve, if it will even serve a purpose at all. I only know that it is in transition because I am in transition. And I will give you whatever I think you need, whatever I feel I need to give you. And I will hope that everything goes well.
Wish me luck.
Image source: jarmoluk / Pixabay