Me...

I have this problem of walling myself up. Not letting people in. I really don't like people knowing who I am. I let people see what I want them to see. The get the revised version of myself. The nicely polished edition. The version people see is that nice, new American History textbook. The edition where we gloss over the Native American massacre, the racism and slavery, the religious persecution, the ethnic persecution, and all those other bad bits of our history. The edition that shows the Americans as being the saviors of all. In every day life I leave out the bad parts, the gruesome stories that know one wants to hear, the imperfections, the moments where I fuck everything up, the times where I'm the really bad guy.

This blog makes me nervous. I am trying with all my might to show the truth. To show me. The real me. The good me. The bad me. The in between me. The unsure me. The sad me. The scared me. The me that has no clue. The self-conscious me. The betrayed me. The hurt me. The vulnerable me. The mean me. The completely and totally imperfect version of me.

Every time I hit the publish button I have a pit in the bottom of my stomach. The one that says "You'll be judged. You'll be a pariah. You're problems are too much to handle. You're not worthy of anything. You don't deserve anything that you had, have, will have or want." I'm putting everything out into the world for anyone and everyone to see. I'm nervous. I still want to be perfect and polished. I am giving over a small amount of control every time I push that hugely intimidating publish button.