Wednesday, June 01, 2011

the beauty of privacy.


I've realized something.

I'm not a private person. In fact, I don't even think I know what the word boundary means. I wear my heart {and my mouth and my ears and my guts and all other manner of me} on my sleeve. For the whole world to see. I've been that way for as long as I can remember. I'm very open with people about my life, about what's going on in it, about what I'm going through or experiencing. I am that way because I feel that it brings an authenticity to my life and to the experiences I have with others. There's something incredibly refreshing about just being real.

But just last week, after being on Twitter and seeing his name in my feed {someone I follow responded to something he'd said} and learning that he's back in the social media stratosphere after this past October's ending of our five-and-a-half-year relationship, I realized that I don't want to be that way anymore. So transparent. So boundaryless. Is that a word? Boundaryless?

I realize this probably sounds like a bunch of hooey, seeing that I HAVE A BLOG AND ALL. But--and I hope this doesn't hurt your feelings--I feel like my blog has become a place just for me. An online diary of sorts. {I know I'm not the first person to describe a blog as such.} I know I recently inquired of the blogosphere to let me know if anyone actually reads this thing, wondered if I should keep writing, et cetera, et cetera...but then I thought to myself

 it shouldn't matter who reads, because what matters, dear L., is that you're writing. What matters is that you're using words you love so much, words that are like friends vital organs, pulsing out meaning to your existence and experience. If someone reads those words, fine. If someone stumbles here in a drunken haze of Google-y fingers or other forms of link love, fine. But you do not need to do it so that others will see. This is your little corner in the world, with pictures of things that make you smile and make you remember and make you re-think and make you re-visit, and, most importantly, with written words that form what's really you in a way that speaking sometimes can't.


That's not to say I want you to go away. That's not to say I'm not glad you read my words. But blogs are different than Twitter and Facebook. They just...are.  And when I saw that he'd returned on Twitter, it made me stop dead in my tracks. My body started to shake, my stomach got tight, my eyes welled up. Too close, I thought. Too close. I love Twitter...or, at least, I did. There was something so incredible about being there, leaving little blips of my life and days and seconds in 140 characters or less, while all of these other people, many I actually know, were doing the same thing. At the same time. Seconds apart. Connected. Bonded. Together. I loved it. 

But now I feel the need for more privacy. More boundaries. Especially as I navigate my life without him--without anyone like that. While these walls of steel are up, they are simultaneously protecting me and giving me the quiet space I need in order to heal. I don't have to share the details of my life on Twitter. I'm not on Facebook and never will be. I don't have to let people--so many, it seems, especially since my public persona of Secret Agent L has come out over the past year--know every detail of my heart like I used to. I need to be in the quiet space of my true self, which I haven't been in for what feels like a very long time. I can put up walls around social media for a while, too, if that's what I need.

And I think that's what I need.


At first, the quiet was hard. Lonely. But now it feels so vital. I am being with me, in a real true way I haven't been before. The walls are up, and I don't know for how long. But now they protect me, give me a quiet space, surround me in a cocoon of just. me. I want to love me again. Deeply. Madly. Truly.

3 lovely bits o' feedback.:

Akirah said...

So beautiful. I heart you. And will continue to read, even though I agree, this place is for you. Thank you for letting me in a little bit though. I appreciate it.

krista said...

i'm a bit of an open book myself. with some pages torn out for safekeeping.
it's okay to be open with boundaries. the best of both worlds.

Tiffany Harkleroad said...

I miss you but I completely understand. I had a similar experience this week myself. I hope you feel better, and if you need anything, let me know.