And no, it’s not about that song.
I’ve been writing for decades, professionally and otherwise, but this is the first time I’ve decided to write about myself. That’s because – as every writer learns – you write what you know, and after all these years, I don’t think I know myself at all.
I’ve tried a lot of things to introduce myself to myself, and I feel like I’m getting closer. That’s all we can do, right? Meditation is probably the best, but also the scariest because it almost forces you to be alone with your thoughts. That terrifies me because I honestly avoid my thoughts 90% of the time.
Another trick that can’t work for everyone is meet, and somehow convince her to marry you, the most amazingly generous and caring human on the planet. Oh, and have her be not only a reiki master but a pet psychic. If you can’t share most of your truth with someone like that, just give up.
So, we try. We try to open up and talk about the weird shit in our brains, and the screwed-up things we’ve done in our pasts, and be thankful our audience is a person who judges everything from a place of love and tolerance. That certainly makes it easier to share when there’s stuff you’ve hidden in the corners for decades.
We’ll try this as well. Assuming an audience of (mostly) strangers won’t judge as harshly because they don’t know my family. It’s like therapy you not only don’t have to pay for, but will – hopefully – at some point pay you to share your weird shit.
In the meantime, let’s have some fun. Let’s share some stories, indulge me in my brain dumps, laugh a little (I hope).