I’ve been having conversations lately that have cut to the core of how I relate to people. I’m a very emotionally guarded person, but at the same time I like to be open and honest. The problems start when I near the line dividing these two, and it starts to become obvious that something is missing, that I’m leaving things out. Worst of all, it’s obvious to everyone but me because I’m working so hard at walking this mental line, forgetting I’m the only one that has the whole story. I become wrapped up in painting a picture with half the palette, and I’m working so hard on the details, I haven’t realized that the picture as a whole has become disjointed. This inevitably tends to go badly for me until I can be dragged back and try to re-frame what I was originally trying to get at.
I’m really not sure what to do about the whole thing, but the patience and persistence in these conversations has been something totally unexpected and incredibly compelling. I’ve been reminded how much weight, good and bad, can be carried in the word ‘maybe’.
The irony of the obtuseness of this post is not lost on me.