Be careful what you ask for.

Let’s see.  When last we met, I asked you to do something for me.  And thank you to those who wrote something back to me.  Some of your responses carried thoughts that I somewhat expected, and some of your words challenged me to comprehend just where you were “coming from”.  And a few times, they prompted questions on my part, that I wanted to express back to you, hopefully welcoming you to chat with me for awhile and have a long-form discussion…fleshing out details, conclusions, and ultimately…meaning. 

That was a desire, right?  THAT was me wanting something reciprocal or conversational from you, because I was tired of creating a story in my own head about how and why you may regularly meet me here.  I wanted to be illuminated.  I wanted to be inspired.  I wanted to learn something about the EFFECTS of this commitment to bear my soul in written form, at least once a week for the last 363 days.

One of the more perplexing, but also deeply respected responses was this: “When I read your very first post, I wondered if I really wanted to continue. Your posts are sometimes as hard to read as it probably is to write them.”  Oh man!  I’m telling you, that one stuck with me for more than a moment. 

Here’s why. 

At the very first, I thought…”REALLY?  Why would that BE?  I’m so easy-going and approachable?”  But then I had to remember that some of the subject matter isn’t what people freely speak about or write about.  She wasn’t talking about ME.  She was talking about the writing.  So, I suppose my openness may have been stunning at times.  Perhaps the subject matter made her uncomfortable or the honesty was unnerving.  And I assume, therefore, that there were times when she wanted to look away. 

Gratefully, she ended that paragraph by continuing in this way… “But I’ve learned a lot from you, and I want to continue reading your thoughts.”  So, ultimately…it tells me that my intentions have been fulfilled…at least with her.  Because I had that “uncomfortable conversation” with her heart, mind and soul. And she STAYED PUT.

And everybody lived, right? Ha!

I mean, there have been some heavy essays here, most of which I have deleted off this site, and I suppose I never thought that they were difficult to read through to the end.  I didn’t fully appreciate what kind of commitment to truth and vulnerability YOU, too have made to this relationship and to these conversations.

So, I’m grateful that I had the gumption to ask you.  It was a little scary, but your many thoughtful and interesting responses fed me in some way.  I contemplated every word.  I re-read every sentence several times.  And ultimately, I felt closer to you as an individual, so I thank you for allowing me to have that.  I don’t get as much response from each writing as I would normally like, so anything and everything is deeply appreciated.  There have even been plenty of times when I have been disappointed and even angry that I sent several hours’ worth of writing OUT into the universe, only to be left feeling alone, scared and even…embarrassed. 

Conversations are fascinating for me.  I love other people’s thoughts, feelings and experiences.  It didn’t matter if it was “girl-talk time” in my choral classroom or group therapy in rehab.  I just love to listen to, ruminate on, and sometimes respond to another individual’s offerings.  I love the insight.  I love the vulnerability.  And I love the connection. 

By the way, I didn’t mean “girl-talk time” in any sexist kind of way.  The main choir that I conducted entirely on my own was a freshman, girls’ choir, so it truly was Girl-Talk when we took 30 minutes or so to share stories and feelings in that space.  And I bet my students would say that they valued that time, just as much as they valued our many successful performances.  I guarantee that THAT time strengthened the bond that also affected their response to the music we shared and also me as a conductor.  Relationships are important.  And the positive effects of open conversations cannot be overstated. 

Be willing.  Spend the time.  Everyone and every THING will benefit, I promise.  So, you see…I’ve always been like this, to some degree.  I’ve always valued personal connection and seen value in digging deep.  It didn’t all start with Recovery.  It just got better and more intentional.

Obviously, this on-going blog has been a therapeutic outlet.  It’s also been a creative outlet.  But among the many responses from some of you, I read several times that you could tell that the writing “helped me”.  Perhaps it’s strange to say, but this particular thought actually offended me, because to me…it implied that I’m in NEED of help.  I’m some damaged being that can’t make it through the day without pouring out my soul to you or processing deep thoughts in essay form.  Isn’t that funny? 

And right now, I wonder if writing THAT sentence OFFENDS YOU.  Perhaps it’s taking this honesty thing too far to tell you that I was annoyed by the very thing that I asked for.  I asked for responses, right?  Be careful what you ask for.  And now I’m openly telling you that I was annoyed by the implication that I NEEDED to write.  But alas, you know me pretty well by now, so I am once again pushing the limits.  You already know that risky behavior gets me a little excited, so likely…you aren’t too surprised, right?  By now, it’s just “Jen being Jen”.

This is where I need my psychologist to chime in, because I wonder…Is that shame talking?  Is it embarrassing that you may have seen me as damaged at some point?  Or fragile?  Well, maybe a little.  But I believe we are all a little more fragile than we like to admit.  And on the other hand, we are all stronger than we realize. The truth probably lies somewhere in between being offended and being clueless, really. I’m sure I needed the writing more than I realized sometimes, and if you’ve been consistently reading along the way, perhaps YOU needed it too. If it was just curiosity, surely you would have been bored by now, man.

I used writing to move through the shame of addiction.  I used writing to move through the pain of abuse.  It was just one of the tools I chose.

And for whatever reason, doing it publicly was part of the intention and part of my personal process.  Even the last words of my first writing imply a little defiance.  I refused to call myself an alcoholic, explaining that “The reasons I drank are not black and white. When I investigate, I find light and dark, nuances of color.  Lots of gray area.”  And I ended by saying: “Hi.  I’m Jennifer.  I’m gray.  And gray matters.”

What you didn’t know then, was that I would then explore the gray matter in over 60 essays in a year.  And what I didn’t know was that my DEFIANCE was indicative of past abuse.

All of those variables were meaningful.  And each of the actions was fruitful.  Make sense?  The public nature was my first fight against words that had been beaten into my head.  I was changing the narrative and taking control of my perceptions.  This was not by accident, but it wasn’t entirely conscious at the time…perhaps one of those times when we are propelled into action by a “call”, and later on, realize just where the Call originated from.  But after consistency and commitment to the continued actions, it eventually led me here. 

What’s “here”?  Well, it’s a place where I can easily have just about any “uncomfortable conversation” you can imagine.  HERE is where I have trust that what I think and what I say is of value…if it’s expressed for the overall benefit of any human who reads it.  Or HEARS it.  I NEEDED to do it alone first.

After almost a year of posting, I’ve had more perplexing situations in the last two months, than I’ve had in years, but I just deal with it all differently now.  I PROCESS it differently.  More productively.  And I have written very little about the majority of it.  I’ve already shared that I’ve slowed down the writing, and I’ll be honest.  I’ve contemplated completely shutting down the blog many, many times in recent weeks. 

Here’s why.

I don’t NEED to write for ME anymore.  Yes, I fully recognize that I needed it for some of the bigger epiphanies of the last year, but I don’t think I NEED it anymore.  In general.  I don’t really see it as being a gift to myself.  Not in this space.  It has transitioned into something different.  Even as I write these words. 

Just a moment ago, I smiled and evenly audibly laughed, because there was obvious irony and humor in one of the paragraphs I wrote.  If you missed it, in ONE short paragraph I said that I’m annoyed that you may think I need help, while I also admitted that I see a psychologist.  Come on.  That’s funny, ya’ll. 

But here’s the deal.  I didn’t start seeing a psychologist two months ago, because I didn’t think I could make it through life on my own.  I decided to see her, because I had faith that another person’s thoughts and ideas might CONTRIBUTE to my growth.  It’s taken a few initial conversations to build the relationship, but two days ago, we were able to have a long-form discussion about what appropriate support and personal boundaries look like, when we are attempting to help others who are struggling.  After a difficult couple of months, I knew I needed to process this with someone, and I didn’t really want to subject Mike to that, frankly.  Because here’s a little glimpse of the last couple of months…some of the things that I didn’t feel compelled to flesh out in written form.

My daughter, Grace, had a thyroid growth discovered, multiple tests done, removal of one thyroid lobe, and pathology finally concluded that it was malignant.  I’ve tried to help her process each of her thoughts and feelings throughout this ordeal, and even help her understand that sharing this experience publicly comes with its own drawbacks.  A couple of days ago, she called to have a conversation about what she calls “pity texts” which are responses from friends that have now heard of the actual diagnosis.  Lord.  Yeah, I get it.  Be careful what you ask for.  Just because you shared something publicly, doesn’t mean that people respond in the way you sometimes expect. (wink, wink)  She’s going to be just fine, as this is seen as a very treatable form of cancer, so the TREATMENT is already done.  Surgical removal of the lobe IS the treatment.  No radiation and no chemo, so ongoing monitoring is the main result of her diagnosis. 

Okay, that’s one thing.

On top of that, I’ve also been involved in a situation with extended family, after a bi-polar mother may have tried to end her life.  She has two very young children, so support and care of a three-year-old and 3-month-old has also been in consideration.  Over the last month, I have picked her up from two separate psych ward stays, tried to engage in appropriate and non-judgmental support, and also offered to help with the kiddos…even driving out of town one evening, with the expectation that I would be driving home with a three-month old and caring for him for at least several weeks.  That ended up changing, as another family member who was already back-ground check approved took on that responsibility until the hearing in a few days.  But it’s still possible that I will help by providing support for the kids, since tremendous progress needs to be made before the state will allow the children to be back in the mother’s care.  Background check approved and baby gear in place, I may have some sweet, little visitors here some days, so that their grandfather can finally get some sleep.

Yeah.  It’s been a lot, but not necessarily overwhelming.  I didn’t need medication, and I didn’t even need to write about it.  General self-awareness has been enough, supportive conversations with others, and crashing about once a week at 8:00 pm.  Yep, if you haven’t tried that in while…I highly recommend it.

Because of all of the “goings-on”, mornings have been more contemplative in nature.  I needed it, frankly, and I didn’t feel the need or even the desire to share a lot of it.  It felt private, for both myself and my family…and when it all was getting to me, I didn’t run to the pen.  I ran to quiet, where I could surrender my thoughts and words to silence of soul, instead of verbal sketchings which were likely to be more abstract than preferred.

But as I’ve moved away from writing, I’ve also been moving towards something else.  That’s inevitable, right?  I don’t really accept complacency for all too long, so each idea is usually leading to the next.  These times can be frustrating, as many of our daily activities do not fulfill our emotional and creative needs in a way that feels like…enough.  But they are also opportunities for growth, if we have the willingness to try new things.  Last week I created a presentation for my company which focused on the question:  “How do we communicate our values and vision in a ‘remote world’?”  We all work from home, and I’m helping to brainstorm about how we build relationships with our clients.  What does that communication look like?  How will we “see” them?  And how do our own employees feel “seen”?  And although it was centered around account management, it was just a product of contemplative thinking and creative ideas.

Think about it.  Over the last seven months, creativity, ingenuity and an entrepreneurial mind is valued like never before.  This kind of thinking is CELEBRATED and recognized, and I must tell you…I am ever grateful that my children are seeing, hearing and retelling these stories.  I feel like they are lucky to be living through a time when those who succeed, likely did so by being bold, imaginative and hope filled.  And that when these individuals have ideas that actually align with the common good of humanity, everyone benefits. 

I’ve learned to not be afraid of failure, because I define the word FOR myself.  If I would have stopped writing because regular readership never surpassed about 150, then I would have denied the value in my own contribution and in those 150 people that spend about 5 minutes reading these very words about once a week.  I mean…jeez.  That wouldn’t have been very nice of me.  Perhaps I’ll write a book one day and, and perhaps I will not.  Perhaps I’ll feel the desire to write tomorrow, and perhaps I will not.  Perhaps I will define success by YOUR standards, and perhaps I will NOT.  That’s my choice, right?

I’ve often heard that my writing feels like I’m just sitting on the couch and chatting with you.  Well, that IS what I intend.  I don’t really care about sentence structure, and each word written, is actually spoken to you in my head.  That’s also why I let capital letters, dot-dot-dots and italics have free reign.  I can’t give you facial expressions, and I can’t use silly accents, so nuances of written communication must be creative, right?  USE WHAT YOU GOT.  Who cares if it’s proper, if you have something meaningful to say?  Let your voice be indicative of who you are, and maybe you’ll find the right words.

For me, it has MORE to do with rhythm…than punctuation, and I wonder if you HEAR the inflection of my speech.  In the end, do my words resonate with you?  My mom calls it “my voice”.  And she’s also told me that she wishes people could hear me as well. 

While writing allows me to feature this introverted, morning being…the social aspects of my personality are not recognized or used.  I mean, I’ve tried to start these conversations, but what I get in return…often isn’t what I’d like.  Or more honestly, I wish others could contribute, so that conversations form, instead of only having me alone on this stage…one soliloquy after another.  Never once have I wanted to be a one-woman-show, so I’ve brain-stormed about transitioning the writing into something different.

I’m not entirely sure when it will begin, and I’m not entirely sure where it will be posted.  All I really know is that I want MORE.  Not in a diabolical way, but in an explorative way.  I want to flesh out some of the ideas that I’ve presented here in this space, with others.  And I think there could be real benefits, for me and for others, in talking with someone OTHER than JEN. 

So over the last month, Mike worked out the techie-side, and I’m reading a book for inspiration.  And someday pretty soon, I’ll try a little podcast.  Um…yes.  Little podcast.  Lofty idea, perhaps, but only if I allow it to carry massive expectation.  Let’s keep it real folks.  It’s a recorded conversation between two people, that is now just about free to produce and distribute. 

Is that scary?  Well, no…not to me.  Maybe to my mom, because we will just see what kind of language flies out of my mouth in that unscripted and unedited space.  But basically, I think there will be a kind of freedom that I don’t have here.  And I also feel that the personal benefits far outweigh the risks. 

I had the foresight to ask why you meet me here, and you gave me answers.  I was surprised by some of your responses, and I was strengthened by your words.  Your own voices held merit for me, but they also pointed out what’s missing in this medium, and why I’m sometimes left more depleted than I’d like to admit. 

Be careful what you ask for but listen to the answers. 

You never know where your heart will lead you.