When You Enter Here, You Enter Me

“And by the way,

everything in life is writable about

if you have the outgoing guts to do it,

and the imagination to improvise.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

[Sylvia Plath]

 

I’m about to do something grand.

Something brilliant.

Something splendid.

I’m about to get over myself.

When I started “wrogging” (writing + blogging), I wanted to find people, who could relate to a world of a motherless daughter. Preferably others of the tribe.

Although, I have loving people in my life, who try their best to see me for who I am, I feel alien at times. I was longing for a connection (and maybe even some free group sessions, who knows?)

Things have changed.

My dreaded 30th Birthday has passed and I am still standing.

I have met people here and forged connections, I never thought possible.

It was easy letting those people in, because they were few and in all honesty nobody was visiting this blog anyways.

Now, there are more of your here, in this little place I consider my home away from home.

I’m thrilled and scared.

Thrilled, because I know how many shades of wonderful are out there and I am so excited to get to see them all.

Scared, because I don’t know you yet and since there are more here now it sometimes feels, like I can’t concentrate on singular faces in the crowd.

Yesterday, I realized that I had started censoring myself, hanging around here shyly and just sort of half smiling around the crowd.

I didn’t like that feeling. This is my home and I should speak freely in my home.

I need to get over that.

So that’s what I’m doing: I’m getting over myself!

I trust that, if you have come here and if you want to stay and see more, that means you want to see more of me and not just of some awesome pictures I post here.

Well, I don’t see, why you shouldn’t. I can be brave enough, I think, to share more of me with you than a quote and a picture.

You deserve more than that.

Please just know that when you enter here, you enter me (not sexually, get your minds out of the gutter people!). You enter who I am.

So, I would appreciate, if you would share yourself as freely with me as I’m sharing myself with you.

Afterall, that’s what you call a conversation. Everything else would be a monologue.

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21 thoughts on “When You Enter Here, You Enter Me

  1. I just watched the movie version of the Bell Jar recently. So interesting, I had so many thoughts. SP was in an abusive relationship with a man who made her doubt herself…he only recently came clean about his abusive behavior. I think so much about how we label people “hystrionic” or “borderline” …. I’m a therapist right, I see this ALL the time…we judge people we don’t understand. We tell them they are “incurable”. And this judgement makes people crazy. People who have suffered need to be believed more than anything else, but we wind up making them feel shame for their experiences by silencing them, we silence what we don’t understand, what we are incapable of understanding. This is why the slienced ones need to talk. And this is also why they are afraid to do it. This is YOUR home, you set the ground rules, you get to decide the tone you wish to keep. I honor that. I hope I shared enough.

    • Oh Patrice, my wonderful Patrice, you always share enough – why would you ever think you don’t? πŸ™‚
      I probably should have made clearer who I am adressing this to, because everyone who has commented here so far was not one of the people I had in mind πŸ™‚
      I agree with what you said. We tend to silence, shut out, things we don’t understand, because they are frightening on some level. It’s so much easier to label things / people and store them away in precisely labeled file cabinets – This does not make it right.
      T.H. and I have a contradictory relationship. I value his poetry for it’s roughness, rawness and the beauty he creates through the bloody, stinky, ugly, smelly reality. I miss the gentleness and sweetness, that is life too, and that he omits from his work. Everything is always “orange, red, red, erupted” with him. No room left for the quiet. I think this limits him. So sometimes, reading his work, I feel limited myself.

        • Ha ha – I do too πŸ™‚

          Poetry, to me, always feels like a dialogue between me and the poet. Novels don’t, neither do plays (not sure how biographies would measure up, because I have yet to read one). I think it’s because with novels and plays the author steps into the background and isn’t immediately visible. He doesn’t approach you, so to speak.

          My conversation with T.H. are limited, because his basis are limited. You can’t approach something, that one party can’t see or understand.

          This is how our conversations tend to go in my mind:

          Me: “But wouldn’t you say that creation isn’t only about power, about holding the world in your foot? Don’t you think creation serves a point beyond that – something less colliding, so to speak?”

          Him: “It took the whole of creation to create my nerve, my every sinew. Now I hold creation in my foot until the heavens break open showing blue and the planets dangling and the sun. Orange, red, red erupted.”

          Me: “But there must me more than that. I know in horses you talked about the quiet statues set in stone, almost translucent in the brisk morning fogg. You must have seen the quiet at least, if not the peacefull?”

          Him: “My eyes had been glared dark. Through a red heat. The cradled guns, damscus, blued, flared.”

          Me: “Yes, but what about Frieda? What about the others? What about their mother? Surely, it can’t just be the bloddied mess of a woman unconscious and dogs gnawing at her bones? You must feel it too. There is more between the raw and the refined. Don’t you think you are omitting life?”

          Him: “That is not their mother, but her body. So leave her. Let her be the spoil of the dogs pulling her remains with their lips into new positions. Protect her and they will tear you down as if you were more her. They will find you every bit as succulent as she is. Too late.”

          This is were our conversations usually end. We just don’t really make headway. I do enjoy talking to him, but yes, the conversations are limited. πŸ™‚

    • I understand that, too. Noone who knows me personally is reading this blog and only a few (Phil, my aunt and one friend of mine) are even aware it exists. – This does make it easier. I don’t censor myself in sake of spearing someones feelings. I can speak my own truth.
      On another note – you might want to get in touch with Patrice or Erik, who came up with a wonderful idea, in regards to all this “angst” we can experience when posting πŸ™‚

  2. That was a really heartfelt and honest post. I understand how you feel. I’ve been happily overwhelmed by the response I’ve gotten since I was Freshly Pressed, but now I feel like i have a lot more eyes watching (or in this case reading) me. It’s like I’ve developed stage fright without the stage. As you said, you must be yourself and do what you were doing that attracted people to your blog in the first place.

    • Isn’t it funny how all of this somehow becomes a case of “mefiez-vous des rΓͺves de jeunesse”? (Now that you are becoming rather fluent in french, I thought I’d give you this one in french πŸ˜‰ )

      I can’t even begin to understand, what it must be like to be next hot thing of the moment – must be quite an experience πŸ˜‰

      I actually like you even more for admitting to your stage fright – I think that’s way awesome πŸ™‚ Although, my dear, we both know you own EVERY stage. To me you are the Aretha Franklin of Comedy – own it, work it!

      πŸ™‚

      • Let’s not get carried away with the French. Just because I can finally pronounce L’Occitane properly does not mean I am ready to move on to entire sentences. I had to google translate the one you wrote, but once I knew what it meant I realize it is very appropriate.

        Wow! The Aretha Franklin of Comedy. I’d like to hire you to be my personal cheerleader! I’m afraid the position doesn’t pay very much though – just gratitude and appreciation.

        • If it comes with the additional benefit of reading your post before they are published and getting my own personal cheerleader uniform I’m in πŸ˜‰

          It’s funny though. Someone else just recently referred to me as their own personal cheerleader. I really think most of us are not used to receiving honest praise for a job well done – we undervalue ourselves at times (maybe because our upbringing teaches us to humble, I don’t know).

          If you ever want me to write you a letter of recommendation though, you know where to find me (on your blog commenting my littel heart out that is)

  3. So… I waited to make sure it was deep enough into the night before I started this. You know how I feel about the difficulties of this already but I want to keep parts of the conversation flowing here because some accolades should occur in the company of others.
    This is bravery.
    This is the hard work. This is yours and although pride is complex, and you may not be able to fully incorporate it, you have support in us.

    I feel that as long as I am not part of the focus but rather the medium, as long as my intention is pure and my kindness complete, voice can become a place in real life. All our voices.

    . But I still get selfish, I do, and I do want to cherish those voices in public, recognize them but not let life steal them away from me. I hesitate to comment on some blogs because I know the audience is in the thousands and what I need, or desire to say, should be overheard in the audience the size of a neighboring table at a coffee shop. Especially here, with your slowly burgeoning audience.

    I can’t imagine we are the firsts to think this.

    Let it be known then, before Kianys is engulfed by the winds of popular opinion (you will be, you will see…) and swept into grandeur… I was here first (well nearly) and I adore the honesty, the sanctity of mind, and the effervescent soul she shares with us… If I had to comment to future readers of this blog. She calls herself a wrogger, a writing blogger, but I consider her a briter or brighter even . A blogging writer. But more so because she brings light with her words…

    Tred not here without conversation and consideration. You *will* be better for having engaged and extended your understanding… Listening to a voice that has so much behind it, can only do to you as it has done for me; lift you up.
    Thank you K.

    • “Oh, Erik, I bet you say that to all the girls…” πŸ˜‰

      I’m sorry, I had to make light of this, break this mood, because you do choke me up at time πŸ™‚

      I don’t entierly agree with your point of view on me, but I don’t think that’s important. This isn’t a right or wrong question, it’s a question of perception and I would be lying to say, it doesn’t feel splendid to bask in the light of you and your appreciation for me. I hope you know, that this door does swing both ways πŸ™‚

      So, thank you, Erik, thank YOU πŸ™‚

  4. I completely agree with your post. I think people connect more with each other when you learn something about them or can relate to them. Your post makes me want to read more; that’s what I think makes a great writer. I started my blog (and I’m pretty new to it) to let people know who the real me is and my story because I too have trouble letting people in. It’s much easier to write out how I feel than to talk to someone. Wow – I think this is the first time I’ve ever commented on a post!

    • Oh, I feel so honored being your first comment πŸ™‚ That’s awesome!

      I think it’s great you started blogging. We all have a story to tell and it’s fascinating to see how different we are and at the same time so much alike.

      Since I’m blogging from Germany and it’s already around 2am here, I won’t be able to check out your blog on my way out as I usually would, but I promise you, it’ll be first thing I do in the morning (well maybe the second thing, after making coffee πŸ˜‰ )

      Thank you so much for taking the time to comment on this and I can’t wait to see what you have started over at your place (hah! almost a bit like christmas in the morning πŸ˜‰ )

      Hope to see you again and here’s to your exciting new beginnings in the blogging world!

      πŸ™‚ K.

  5. Pingback: Everyone’s A Winner! | Thirty Years Of Growing Pain(s)

  6. i feel this way ALL the time – the whole censoring everything and being shy and what not. i usually take on the role of “the observer” and i feel that my upbringing of listening and doing what others wanted me to say and do hasn’t always been for the best. and i’m discovering that my intuition is generally right on – that although my voice may be small, that doesn’t mean that my thoughts and passions are.

    thank you for being honest. i don’t know if i would have found this blog without your honesty and realness. πŸ™‚

    • Yeah – I completely know what you mean! The weird thing is (many) people (who don’t really know me) would describe me as “extroverted” and “outgoing”, because I have the tendency of babbeling over the silence – Really am working on this. πŸ˜‰

      I like the observer part. Totally understand how you can refine your people skills through that (probably helps with fishing through a lot of the b.s., too). I think that’s such a valuable thing to do.

      The censoring not so much (at least imo) – it might be more diplomatic, but I’ve found that I feel a lot lighter when just speaking my mind (well, you know within realms, I’m not a hero either πŸ˜‰ )

  7. i hear you on feeling a lot lighter when you’re speaking your mind. i’m trying to do more of this – more so in the past few weeks than, really, ever!

    most people see me as cold. because sometimes i don’t have much to say. i let people talk about themselves and i listen. speaking of listening – thanks for listening to me. you know how to listen to the silence. some people are afraid of listening beyond the silence. i suppose i just expected others to be as curious as i am, to test the waters, to question. but most of the time, they don’t.

    but i’m glad you asked πŸ™‚ because i don’t know if i ever would have come out to say it if you didn’t. i feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my heart. thank you again – more than words can say πŸ™‚

    • When I was 11 y.o. (or maybe 12 y.o.) a friends mother (who actually liked me I guess) nicknamed me “Kroko” for crocodile, because I wasn’t a big hugger or cuddler or anything (boy that’s changed!). When we are young (also when we are older, but especially when we are young), we are so much a product of our enviroment, it’s scary.

      And (most) people don’t (really) want to see the imperfect and the disturbed (or disturbing) especially in children – so they blend it over with some general assumption and move on. Saying someone is emotionally cold is so much easier than asking if they are scared, lost, bewildered and in need of a vast amount of love, care and understanding.

      I’m thrilled you feel lighter – that’s great. Patrice had a great post about ghosts some time back (I think in late decembre, early january). Well she refered them as shadows, but the essence is that you need to own your own shadows and send those that are foreign back to their rightful owners. We feel lighter when we don’t try to bear the weight of the world on our shoulders.

      Jorah (from Terminally Beautiful Life) in her last post at the end said something really important too. That we are all here to fight our own battles. That’s what we are made for. We shouldn’t wast our time taking on other peoples. πŸ˜‰

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