confessions that make no sense

When I first started blogging, I imagined myself as an anonymous writer, able to bare my soul and put it out there to an audience who had no idea who I was. In other words, I would be able to be totally honest without having to take responsibility for the things I said, because nobody in my real life would know about it.

But you know what? It turns out that for the most part, unless your blog hits the big time, the only people who read it are people who know you and are interested to hear what you have to say (<-- what I think on a good day)(alternatively: who know you and feel obligated to keep up with what you write <-- what I think on a bad day).

Which makes the stakes for honesty a lot higher. If I tell you what I'm really thinking, one of you could text me at any given moment, or call me, or run into me at the store, and say with the kindest concern, "How are you doing?"  and if I say, "Fine," respond, "No, really. How are you doing?" And I will end up having to have a conversation I don't want to have in the cereal aisle. Even though that's on me, it would be sweet of you to want to be supportive.

But on the other hand, I really am a private person who prefers to deal with things on my own. I can definitely carry my personal load of crap issues and also deal capably with my life--I've been doing it for years--so if you do run into me at Costco, just assume I'm fine unless it seems like I want to talk. I guess I might as well put that out there. (And given the string of high profile suicides recently, maybe I should also say that I'm nowhere close to being suicidal. It's not that kind of thing.)

The truth is that my light has gone out. Or at least gone into hiding. This little light of mine, I don't know how to let it shine anymore. I'm not happy, and haven't been for a long time. And I don't know what to do about it. I know (or I think I know, anyway) the reasons why I'm unhappy, and for the most part they are things I don't want to change, or can't change. For a long time now, my energy has been going into enduring instead of thriving.

What I'm trying to learn is how to dump all that, how to be really, truly OK, in the midst of any circumstances. The Buddhists call it equanimity. The Christians have Paul, who in his letter to the church at Phlippi says, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." The circumstances don't have to matter. I can be at peace with myself no matter what.

But in the meantime, until I get there, I'm trying to plumb the depths of what exactly this is, and it isn't exactly pleasant. A lot of what's going on is me being, for lack of a better term, spoiled rotten. My entitled expectations of what my life "should" be like aren't being met, and so I start to whine. The problem isn't the circumstances, it's those expectations.

OK, that's all for now. Maybe I will revisit this another time, and maybe I won't. In a way, that's what the disappointment posts have been about. I really want to take care of this before I become a bitter old woman, which is where I'm going to end up unless I figure this out.

Insert standard disclaimer here about how lucky I am, and how could I be so ungrateful with the amazing life I have (which is totally true). I'm a straight white woman married to a white man with a high status job, I have amazing children, according to pretty much every indicator I should be the happiest woman on earth. This is not a situation that's likely to garner a lot of sympathy, and it doesn't deserve any. But I'm hoping speaking the truth will help jolt me into some new energy to get to work.