Enlustered


Nobody’s Home

I read other blogs sometimes that are freshly pressed, but my favorite are food blogs. New recipes show me how to make boring veggies delicious: Kale with cashew sauce replaces kale stewed with onions and garlic. every. single. time.

Even as I read other blogs, and write on mine, I always feel like I’m watching a performance. Sometimes I wonder, What am I doing making use of blogs and blogging when I don’t really feel a part of this “production”?

Most wordly things that people end up discussing on blogs are things I don’t believe are as valid as people let on: jobs, marriages, friendships, parenting–not when people are expected to hide and be ashamed of so much.

I think that’s why I like food, because it’s  something naked and natural that we all do, and that is still unshameful. Not true with staring, having food in your teeth, having a sexually transmitted disease, being unmarried over 30–which are considered embarassing.

When I had my first psychotic episode I wanted to tell people at work about it. Not telling made me feel like I was living in a different world from everyone else. I was new to mental illness, and I sensed it was one of those things I wasn’t supposed to mention. Also, I worried I’d embarass my family.

Another unmentionable thing about me is that I have a sexually transmitted disease (herpes). Sometimes this, and a lot of other things make me feel gross and unacceptable, considering what I’ve learned is appropriate discussion.

For a long time I was extremely ashamed of liking white guys. Once when I was a high school student I turned down a chance to go back to the room of a college guy (who happened to be black) at a party. He said, “What you like white guys?” That was the second time something like that happened to me.

I’ve also been ashamed of not having a real career, like writer, even though my experience explains why it’s been so hard. It’s like my story–how I got herpes, how it was liking white boy after white boy as a little girl, and not telling anyone–doesn’t matter.

Some days I start to wonder what I have to offer a world where stories don’t matter, only appearances. When we avoid talking about so much, what we have left is more like death than life.

When we hide so much we have no real knowing, or connection between us, something key for marriage or any other relationship.

We can have no real guiding or parenting others when people don’t know their story–what kind of guidance they’ve needed, simply because our stories are considered too shameful to face. No one is really “working,” or present when he is avoiding his greatest struggles, which are only apparent in our stories.

I hope my memoir and writing can help people feel more at home in this world, more like all of who they are matters, nothing about them is so bad they can’t be loved. And I hope it will help me find my place. I’ve always wanted to be understood, and that’s been my biggest challenge in a world where so much is considered too ugly to mention.

Advertisements

1 Comment so far
Leave a comment

[…] Anyway, about a week ago I decided to make this site publicly unavailable because I disliked the ads, but deep down I probably had other reasons to hide. It felt like a cop-out when I told myself I privatized the blog because of the ads. Then today I changed my mind about “hiding”. I don’t want to cover up my actions because I feel ashamed, which is how I sometimes feel about my posts here (posts such as “Bad Meaning Good” or others). […]

Pingback by A Zen Approach to “Cash Rules Everything Around Me” | Enlustered




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s



%d bloggers like this: