I started writing here as a way to find language for my life and my experiences. So much of my life I have been gaslit, or unable to access the words for my feelings and experiences. I don’t think I would have been able to write any of what I have shared without the work I have been doing for me and me only. This space became a landing place for my words—it was as if I workshopped everything in therapy, with friends, and with myself and this became the script I sent to print. [I am avoiding making anything finite intentionally!]
The reality is this space has been a stage for me. This is my production. I am performing monologues with a spotlight on me so bright I cannot see you all in the audience. And you, the audience are an nebulous “thing.” You’re not cognitively “real” to me unless you make your presence known by engaging with my posts.
The truth is—I don’t think about you. I’ve led this space with the soul purpose of witnessing myself—a public act of self affirmation largely free of shame and projection.
Like a theater audience, I love that you’re here, I bask in your praise and applause—I’m grateful for it, but the show would go on with or without you.
Last week, my therapist turned the house lights on. I can see every single one of your faces—I know who’s in the front row.
Essentially, my therapist asked me my “why” in regard to my substack and now I’m also wondering why, and I have become conscious that you all could be asking the same.
Not only am I conscious of your potential question—I’m fully conscious of you, your feelings, creating scenarios of how you may interpret me, and worst of all I am conscious of your shame.
A consequence of being human is experiencing and feeling shame. But I don’t want to feel your shame. I was navigating this space where I wasn’t even feeling my shame.
The “why” question became a spiral of over thinking. And I’m angry. I told my therapist as much. That they’ve pushed me into a space of grief because I feel robbed. I feel robbed of this space that did not hold your potential shame—frankly it did not hold you at all. It was for me, by me, centered me and you have had the free will and honor to read or not, engage or not.
I know this concept of any one reading feeling shame is largely a projection, but the thorn is now I’m wondering what you all are thinking or feeling at all. Are you shocked and embarrassed by the things I have shared? Are you ashamed I am the age I am and still figuring so much out?
I don’t think or feel like I should be embarrassed by the level of vulnerability I have showcased, but now I am reminded of how we are socially groomed into viewing vulnerability as scary and/or uncomfortable.
If I am incredibly honest, I’m so mad I am thinking about any of you at all! I lived in this singular view of this space and it felt so safe—even if a bit dissociative from you all. I affirm that, that iteration of this space was so fruitful and important.
That space no longer exists in the same way anymore and I am grieving that and also deeply frightened by what’s in front of me.
Will I stay true to myself, and allow myself to be witnessed by all of you knowing and now acknowledging your potential projection of whateverthefuck.
Will I preemptively reject and abandon myself on your behalf. Will I do us a huge disservice of assuming what all 1,000+ of you think of me, in the name of wanting to be wanted?
My therapist said it seems I am on an important precipice and I’m inclined to agree with them. They also said that being this vulnerable and now actively engaging in a back and forth could bring more people in and closer…but I hardly know who I am without the assumption of rejection. I feel like I needed a minute to start exploring that before the lights came on. I don’t know who I am without assuming I am too much, and unwanted.
So, I need a minute. I need to figure out how to step into this next part of myself and this space. I need to figure out what it’s like being on stage while looking you all in the eye—while still telling my story in all of my vulnerabilities without thinking you’ll all boo me off the stage or get up and leave.
So, that being said-I think I am going to pause for next week. I don’t want to be derailed by this unearthing, but I am very much in need of tending to myself, and this grief, and the reality in front of me.