The Swinging Doors Of My Mind

From getting to know some bloggers out there rather personally, I realize a commonality between many of us and that is that our friends and family may have never known the deepest part of us if it not be for our writing. For those of us who blog anonymously, they will never know the true person we are.

For most of my life, I think I’ve always had a feeling that people see me differently than I see myself. I’ve never understood why and never understood why I felt misunderstood until recently.

When people read my blog, or a poem I’ve written, or even an email I’ve sent, I often get a surprised reaction from them. They pull the “oh, I had no idea you liked to write”…but I think really what they mean is “oh, I had no idea you had feelings.” I know that sounds harsh, but in a way it is true.

In writing I am an extrovert…someone who often writes with the authority of someone well spoken (and sometimes not). My writing is the deepest thoughts of me, usually thought over and over, chewed on, bounced off the walls of my head, and criticized till there’s not much left and then it goes down on paper after which I usually hate it but that is the love hate relationship many of us have with our writing…it is not about liking it, it is about writing what we must write.

In person, I can’t seem to articulate the same way. In person, I’m an introvert…hold on…hold on…before you argue with me because I know you will…really…think about it…I am quiet and shy (shut up, I am). It is just that I have spent many years forcing myself out of that shell. As soon as I am in a room full of people, my natural instinct is to find a wall but instead I always force myself to a conversation with someone I don’t know usually about a subject I’m not versed. A part of me thrives on the feeling of being uncomfortable…the feeling of stretching socially and intellectually. The other part of me is scared to death of leaving myself wide open in that way. The good thing for me is that my determination has always been stronger than my toughest demon.

Now that I am fully aware of the person that hides inside me, who writes and even sometimes sings, horribly I might add, and that the person inside me is so much more than the person who walks around for the world to see, I know that the next chapter of my life includes finding a way for that person to live on the outside just a little bit more.