I’m starting to write more under my real name.
And it’s really hard.
I’m used to spewing just what’s on my mind, “profanity” and all.
Can’t do that with 300+ people that I actually know in real life reading. (Particularly when about 250 of them are still fundamentalist, or at least conservative Evangelical.)
I feel this pressure to be intellectual and unemotional and to hide everything I really think and feel.
I mean, most people probably still think I’m the girl they knew on staff at camp all those years ago. Jay’s little sister. The girl with the books. The girl at the piano. Housekeeping. The babysitter.
If they’ve been paying attention to the links I post on Facebook, they probably know a little bit better.
But I’m afraid of being known.
Rather, I’m afraid of being known and subsequently rejected after a thorough tongue-lashing about how I’m traveling a dangerous path.
I want to write with abandon. I want to be me, wholly me, and still be loved.
As it stands, most of the people who actually know Wholly Me are people whom I’ve never met face to face. (Save my partner and Paige.)
No matter how open I choose to be, I will always hide part of me. And maybe that’s as it should be, but sometimes it’s burdensome.