Someone unsubscribed from my newsletter last week. Didn’t like the content, I imagine.
I’d like to say I didn’t spend one moment thinking about it, but I did. I thought, huh, maybe I shouldn’t have posted that naked picture? Maybe I shouldn’t have talked about feeling disgust for my body? Maybe I shouldn’t have shared my dream?
Maybe I ought to write about different things, or in a different way?
But then I remembered what I’m doing here, here in this newsletter, here on the earth: Bringing my real self to myself and to the world. Even if that means people fall away.
In fact, crazy as this sounds, that’s one of my goals–to let the people who aren’t my people fall away. And how can they do that, how can they realize I’m not for them if I don’t let them see me?
How can I find the support, the community, the connection I long for if I don’t expose myself with all my foibles and OPINIONS and questions and shifting, changing, evolving styles and beliefs?
We’re moving from the Boston area back to our house in Western Massachusetts this weekend, which means, I’m spending my days sorting and packing, unearthing and deciding what to keep, what to toss.
On the one hand, it’s exhausting and chaotic. I wish I could snap my fingers and have it all be done.
On the other hand, it’s liberating. I see a stack of books I haven’t touched in the last 10 months–OUT. I find clothes in the back of my closet I haven’t worn in a year–OUT. I find shoes that I can wear for about an hour before they start killing me–OUT.
I could avoid the whole thing, keep all the stuff, pack it up, lug it home, unpack it there, let it weigh me down, take up space in my mind and surroundings, but no. I say, let it go to someone who wants it.
Let people want me or not want me. It’s really none of my business. My only business is to tell the truth, as much as I know, until I know more.
That is what I want for you, Dear Reader, the freedom to be seen, to be you, and to bless those who leave as much as those who stay.