“So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me, because I, too, am fluent in silence.” ~R. Arnold
My mouth is reluctant to produce speech tonight, but it isn’t due to the fatigue I currently feel from being up early for an open shift or having only the caffeine from a double tall latte. I am sitting here, mostly silent, because my mood is cranky and dark. Simmering. Bubbling.
Most of the day was rather good. I had a good morning at work, attended an interesting meeting, had supper cooking in the crockpot, had a good appointment with my chiropractor…then I came home and a headache began to creep up my skull.
The reasons for the black mood don’t matter much, except to me, but my mood grew blacker still as I listened to the prattle going on around me. What I wanted was silence. What I got was noise, criticism, and condescension. That’s a combination that is almost guaranteed to ruffle my feathers and put my mood into a perilous nosedive. Actually, now I’m swiping at tears.
I could say so much, but then I’d likely be made to feel chastised like a wayward child all the more. I know that my blog is of little importance. I know that, while my blog has 1700+ followers, it is regularly read by only a handful of people. I get it. I am okay with it. But it stings something fierce to be questioned and criticized for what I share in my blog, especially when the questioning comes from someone very close, from someone who chooses not to read my blog, who seems to have no interest in understanding the context or purpose. In real life, I am not an open book. I will listen more than I speak. I keep my deepest thoughts and feelings as tightly locked up as possible, and I don’t hand out keys to those treasures very often. A person could know me for years without ever truly knowing what I’m thinking or feeling or what makes me tick beyond the surface. On my blog, I am more open, more honest, more reachable. It is easier for me to write words than to speak them. Still, even in my blog, there is a veil which separates the public projections from the private. I don’t share everything, and for good reason. When I do choose to share something, I’ve got reasons for that, too.
I want to be able to laugh at myself. I want to be real about this journey that I am on. I want to see silver linings more than I want to see storm clouds. I want to see my progress. I want to encourage others. I want to be known and understood. Maybe even sometimes I am just proud of what I have accomplished or how far I’ve come. Sometimes I just need the reminder that I am okay, that I can do it, that I’m enough.
So, when someone important to me asks, “Why would you post that picture on Facebook?!” in such a tone as to imply that I had done something horrifying and shameful…well, it crushes my heart and fans the flames of fury. It is all the more upsetting knowing that the question was spoken out of ignorance, which flows out of the refusal to take the time or make the effort to read the words that accompanied the photo. My blog post explained the photo. If you want to question why I do something concerning Facebook or my blog, at least do me the courtesy of actually reading my post first. If you still don’t understand, then we can talk about it further, but I honestly don’t think it’s all that complicated.