I had to have some really challenging conversations in that last couple weeks. For days I walked around with this weight that rested in my hand as though suddenly my iPhone turned into a 100lb brick that became nearly impossible to lug around without severe emotional pain.
I didn’t want to have the conversations. I didn’t want to write the words I knew someone was going to take the wrong way. I didn’t want to defend myself against the harsh criticisms and the opinions of others about Only Human. I didn’t need to hear one more person tell me how I did them wrong or to try to defend the mess I’ve been in for a month. Because no one asked me about that.
I just didn’t want to have the hard talks. If I was playing out a scene in a movie I would be that kid who was embarrassing the shit out of their parents as they thrashed about in the toy aisle of the store.
But I did it.
I did it because there comes a point when you realize that all life is are these conversations. Or lack thereof. Your choice.
You can talk about it and share your feelings or you can keep that sh*t in a cage. You can bottle it up and conceal it like a nuclear bomb that, at some point, will explode or you can deal with the minor tears and breaks now.
But what you can’t do is set expectation that anyone will receive what you have to say with rainbows and butterflies. Or that they will respond at all.
Life is not rainbows and butterflies no matter how many times Bob Ross convinces you otherwise.
Sometimes you have to tell the truth because that is all you have left to tell.
I have no more room for niceties. I don’t have room for your boxes or restraints. I am unapologetically me. The one who comes with scars and bruises that I’m no longer scared to tell you about. The one that may not say the things you like to hear. I’ve never been the friend you come to when you want to be coddled. I’m the one you come to when you’re ready for someone to stop treating you like you may break.
I wear my heart on my sleeve and that is my blessing, and my curse.