A Decision to Make

I'm officially reentering society. I've joined two writer's groups and have read my material aloud and received critical feedback from both. I'm attending a conference on Saturday. I'm making commitments and able to see them through, for quite a few weeks now. Somehow, finally, miraculously, I've found myself in a position to start living again.

Yet as I dip my toes back into the living waters of life, I'm scared. I'm scared of who I've become. I'm scared to let people know who I am. I'm scared to tell people about what I've been through. I don't want their judgment, and I don't want their sympathy. And I certainly don't want to have to explain and try to make people understand... 

But I don't really know what I want. Perhaps to pretend the whole mess never happened? To never let anyone see anything past skin-deep? To be taken at face value, like somehow my life could become as superficial as it looks from the outside perspective, if only I don't address my truth?

If only. So I have to decide. Who am I going to present myself to the world as? This was a big issue last time I got healthy enough to work. I learned that when it comes to me and other people, I look too healthy to say I'm sick. Trying to exist in that dichotomy felt like a really big burden was placed on top of an already insurmountable struggle. They would look at me like I was nuts and treat me like I clearly didn't understand what true hardship was. So now I find myself electing to stay silent.

The result: people think I'm a happily kept housewife who grew bored so she decided to write a novel. Nothing could be further from the truth, but I find myself doing zilch to change perceptions. It's too hard to try and convince the world that what I'm dealing with is real. Ironically, that's the entire reason I wrote the book in the first place. And why I continue to write this blog. So yeah, I have a decision to make; how much of myself do I keep to the vest, and how much do I let be known.

Thanks for joining,

Leah