Sharing your heart part 2

This is going in a completely different direction than I originally intended.

So it's been a couple weeks since I started feeling like I had made this radical, life-altering decision. And at first, everything was good because, why would I have written all those things if I hadn't really felt that way? However, now some time has passed and even the smallest of wounds have yet to heal. I again feel like I stripped down and paraded every last part of myself that still felt like it hadn't been tampered with. Nothing of myself is my own. And now there's this other feeling that I can't stand and I don't know how to bounce back from it.

Information that I am the sole keeper of never stops streaming from my lips. I can't have a conversation with anyone anymore without revealing something I've never said to anyone before. I'm not breaking down and having a heart to heart, I'm simply stating a thought or memory like I'm reading a bus schedule. "Yeah, I struggle with that." "I feel the same way." "I have this problem." Before, I was a mystery. Before, no one asked me anything. Before, no one bothered me because I always made it clear that I didn't want to be talked to. Now, I vomit secrets.

I can't stop talking about myself to people. Almost everyone, close friend or roommate or acquaintance or classmate, they all know something more about me now. I am uncomfortable with this person I have become. Instead of feeling safe and loved and cared about, I'm constantly on edge. I feel so alone without myself. I don't have my security blanket of my past to wrap myself in. Is this good or bad?

I mean, I don't want friends. I never cared what people thought of me. I like being alone in the sense that I am never obligated to spend time with people. Me, myself, and I. I have made fun of people like the "new me," who talk non-chalantly about their lives and struggles without warning. Like it's easy. Like they're detached from the words, the experiences, the feelings. I never want to become that. I gave a part of myself away by speaking and I'll never get those things back now. I traded in what I knew, what kept me sane, for a bunch of relationships that are going to be the death of me.

I don't know what the answer is. Not for everyone at least. Maybe there is no black or white answer. Maybe we all are just supposed to do what feels okay for us. I just know that I hate what I've done with "sharing my heart."

This little thing called sharing your heart

I have attempted to write out my thoughts on transparency, sharing, testimonies, openness... every word you can think of that encompasses the notion of being honest and true with others about your thoughts and struggles. I've spent the past few years on the side of the fence that says, no, I will not open up. Why should I? I mean, I don't necessarily want the pain inside of me to fester, but there is a certain vulnerability and sacrifice to spilling the beans about what goes on in our hearts and minds. I have never shared my testimony in front of a group of people, and the first time I ever shared my past and struggles with a close friend, the relationship ended on a sour note. I felt betrayed, felt as though everything I put out on display on an act of trust and duty in a friendship was being mocked and abused. The best word I can think of to describe it is nakedness. It's like you've decided against better judgment to take a late night skinny dip, but your best friend takes your clothes away when you're not looking and won't give them back. You make the long trek back to camp, where you're forced to enter a building with the spotlights on you as soon as you enter. Even if you try to explain what happened and lay the blame elsewhere, they can't see past your nakedness. Everything they heard, and now can see, is the only truth. That haunts you. I always take pride in the fact that it takes a lot to embarrass me, but there is nothing that makes me feel more insecure than other people knowing what only I myself should know.

The only version of "transparency" that I understood for a couple years was the idea that, any time someone asks you a personal question, you must disclose the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If someone asks you how your day is going, "fine" is not an acceptable answer. Fine is a mask. Fine is a buzz word that gives the inquisitor permission to dig deep - and hard. That's what I always thought, and my experiences with people who value "transparency" made this a reality. I once had an acquaintance reprimand me for repeatedly answering similar questions with "fine" or "okay." "Sarah, we both know you aren't fine. You should tell me what's going on." That comment took a lot for me to recover. I was angry when that happened, because I felt forced and attacked. I felt like I wasn't being allowed to feel the way I genuinely believed I felt, like I was lying to myself constantly and everyone could tell. Maybe that was true in some sense, but I still don't feel as though it is up to other people to tell me what's going on in my mind. I've come to realize a key tenet of transparency that many people miss: relationship.

I think that the words this person spoke to me had a negative impact because we did not have a relationship. She probably had really good intentions, I don't doubt that. I don't think she went out of her way to hurt me. But I also think there is some tiny bit of arrogance with people who believe they have every right to expect people to tell absolutely everything to them. It's like having a best friend in  elementary school who said things to you like, "come on, just tell me! I'm your best friend!" I think something in us tells us that a close relationship warrants some sort of obligation to inside information. You tell your best friend who you have a crush on. You tell your best friend the juiciest gossip. You're embarrassed to share your grade with the smart kid in the class, but you'll probably tell your best friend when he or she asks. Relationships build trust, and trust warms us up to the idea of taking off a few more layers of metaphorical clothing. But a second point I am trying to drive home here is that, just because the relationship and trust exists, does not mean we will ever share everything. It's a choice, not a requirement. I have very close friends that I still haven't shared things with. I have been in a relationship with someone for nearly six years and they still don't know everything I struggle with. I'm not saying that I have an answer, because I don't. I only know that relationship and time are important factors in getting to a place where openness is slightly less intimidating.

I started writing this because the past couple weeks have marked a turning point in my views about transparency and honesty. I'm not certain exactly where it came from, what sparked it, who said what, but I know this: I let go of some deep, dark, painful burdens and something happened. That something absolutely terrifies me because of the fear and vulnerability attached to it all, and there hasn't been a day in the past week where I haven't wondered if I've made an awful, life-altering mistake. What is this person going to think of me now? What if what I said was too weird? What happens if they don't want to talk to me anymore? But I've always seen the value in sharing life stories because you never know when you'll hear something that will squeeze so much conviction and understanding and love into your heart that you just burst, "oh my goodness, I've struggled with the same thing and thought I was the only one!" I said something against years of internal judgment where I've thought, this is too painful, no one will understand, it's just too much of a burden to tell someone. What if they worry? But the response astounded me: I feel the same way. I won't think differently of you. I care about you. And the best part? Their actions matched their words. It wasn't a scripted, "this is what I'm supposed to say" kind of thing. They actually cared!

It's so ridiculous to me in hindsight: I used to hear this sort of thing about it feeling so freeing and refreshing and peaceful to give your pain and sin over to God, because really, that's what I did. I never believed that would truly happen. I don't doubt God's power, his ability to heal and help me discern when to speak and when not to speak. I think in the past where I've told people things, it was only because I felt it was expected of me. I talked, yet still didn't trust anyone or anything. I wanted to feel valued and thought telling someone all my deepest secrets would make them be a better friend or want to be with me more. But this time, I trusted this feeling inside of me that told me there was nothing else I could say or do in that moment. I needeed to talk, but it was more than words that weren't going to do anything but fall on idle ears.

I think I am going to wrap this up now, though I do have a few more thoughts on speaking and listening that I will get to another time. Something to think about:
how different our lives would be if we were certain we would still feel loved when we were open with people.

I'm not okay

I prayed for contentment. It didn't work. Or maybe I didn't allow it to work because I like having a reason to be angry. I don't know.

Artists Unite

I have a love/hate relationship with the internet. I think it's really amazing how far networking online has taken artists: people sell their work, collaborate with others, swap art, get feedback and critique, and can learn infinite skills simply by reading a blog or watching a tutorial video. People establish themselves and create shops and have blogs and fans and it's really amazing to see how far people get. I get excited when people I've been following are successful, even if we will never be friends outside of this online realm. I love art and these networking/showcase sites like SoundCloud, DeviantArt, Flickr, and there are many more. They're fun and helpful. But there is also a terrible and ugly side of what is meant to be a positive and safe thing.

There is a lot of theft. I mean, the worst I had seen before yesterday was someone using an icon on Livejournal and not giving credit. Even then, the original artist/editor of the graphic simply has to comment or message and say, "Hey, I made that. Would you mind giving credit?" and most people will be like, "Yeah, no problem. Sorry!" Everybody goes on their merry way. But it can get a lot worse.

My best friend is an amazing musician. But I want to make one thing clear: I am not saying it just because of our relationship. Because really, I think any friend and significant other of someone who is interested in and/or passionate about some art form is going to give unending support as long as you have some sort of relationship with them. I mean this when I say it, though: Patrick is very good at what he does. What you hear at the end is the result of hours and days and weeks of work. I am there pretty much every moment he is making something. He tells me everything about his gear, what he's working on, who he's networking with. He gets excited to show me what he's come up with at certain points through the process. I am happy to be a part of his passion for music and I am always so proud of him.

Yesterday he found out that an artist in the UK was downloading his songs and posting them on various sites as his own. He featured two or three or Patrick's original songs on his own EP, and was selling another song on iTunes already. It wasn't just stealing, it was stealing and making a profit. The story gets far more "interesting," for lack of a better word, but I'm going to keep the details out of this blog post just for simplicity. Nothing this guy was saying or doing made sense, though. He was not really trying to hide the fact that he stole music to pass off as his own. It made me angry, and I ran who knows how many kilometers to the town line, sweating off my frustration. When I get mad, I don't know what else to do. Then I was sad that someone who claimed to be artist, someone who claimed to love music, would do this.

I don't take an interest in any form of art lightly. I think there are clearly varying degrees of passion and interest in it, and skill plays a part as well, but having an artist's heart is the key. You have to be respectful of what others do. It takes time, energy, and resources to draw a picture or write and produce a song. There are plenty of people out there who are willing to do others a favour, usually for a price. It's a passion and hobby just as much as it is a business. Theft cannot be taken lightly. It is hurtful for those who created the art and the people who are close to the artist, too. I can't speak for Patrick and I'm not trying to imply that I was more hurt about the whole thing, but I was very upset that someone could claim something as their own when I was there. I sat in the same room, right beside my best friend as he cut up and resampled every bit of vocals. He had to get the bass just perfect, so I sat by, annoyed that he was making the same noise over and over for the better part of an hour. I didn't make the song, but if you mess with my Patrick, you're messing with me. You're messing with all the artists of the world who have poured their heart and soul into everything they create.

I am constantly encouraging people to share their art. I know for myself and Patrick it's not a matter of making money or trying to get famous. It's just that there's this certain feeling of satisfaction that comes from finally completing something and you just want someone else to be able to see or read or hear it. It bruises that part of a person that longs to post a finished piece of work when you're worried that someone else will take it away from you. I want so badly for the internet (and the world) to be a place of encouragement and creation and sharing.

Why I Stopped Blogging

I used to have a blog that I used for posting all my feels and 'real things' that happened; the sort of things that people on the interet seem to find therapeutic. I used to like pouring out bits of my heart to strangers online, but as the years passed, I began to like it less and less. I started seeing it as a desperate and pathetic cry for attention, as blogs became more and more personal and more and more people spoke out about their problems. I used to have a lot more compassion and understanding for people, but now the only feelings I muster up are ones of annoyance and anger. I am easily triggered by self harm and eating disorders and it's offensive to me when people take them lightly and blog about them and the words and feelings seem so simple. It is most likely a fault with myself, but I have a hard time believing people are suffering when they can talk about it nonchalantly. More and more, I find myself getting uspset when people have Tumblrs and other blogs exclusively devoted to caloric intakes, complaining about being fat, and posting "progress photos." I am sad because it feels like a mockery of something that consumes entire lives. I was sworn off "real life, personal blogging" because having problems and low self-esteem became glamourous.

I want to say now that I don't think everybody is a fake. I know there are people with feelings they can't change, can't ignore, can't cope with, and their lives are a fucking bloody mess because of it. If that's you, and only you know, I'm sorry. Not everyone deals with their lives in the same manner, that's something I've had to come to terms with. I felt frustrated with others who did things differently than me because I felt like their methods made their problems less genuine. I still don't understand how people with low confidence and self-esteem can have entire Facebook albums devoted to pictures of their bodies and faces, but I'm trying not to let it get to me. I've been cold to people I identify with because, even with our deep similarities, there's always critical differences that shake me to the core. I'm still at the stage where I love my lonliness. Actually saying to someone, "I understand what you're going through," feels like I'm giving up a secret part of myself. I'm stuck.

I stopped blogging mostly because I felt I was going to become one of the very bloggers I despised. I didn't want to get comfortable or reveal too much or have too many people agree with what I felt and thought. I didn't want to start complaining too much. I didn't want to fabricate my life. I wanted to keep things simple.

With all of that said, you can see that I'm back. I read a friend's blog tonight that inspired me to try again. I  know how to be real and I don't think I have the same fears anymore. I really want this to be personal, but I say now that I will still know where to draw the line. I also want this to be a positive blog, not a place for complaints and rants and general negativity. I want to learn about myself. I want to open up to people, because that's what people do when they care. I've been rude and cynical for far too long, and it's time to grow up.