I wanna go back to the place I had myself known.

I went over to a friend’s house a couple of weeks ago for late-night tea and snacks. She’s a newer friend, but we’ve quickly become close, and I feel very comfortable with her and her family. So, in those few hours we spent on her couch over shortbread and chamomile while her children slept upstairs and her husband tapped out emails nearby, I was myself. 

I left with so much anxiety. 

Why? Because I had let her in. I had shared my humor, opinions, cynicism, insecurities, and dreams that I usually hold close to me with her. I told her about the boy that got away and my embarrassingly long process of letting go of him and acknowledged my hope for a family. I also shared snippets of my journey with fear and anxiety and how often I hide those things from the view of others. For a moment, I had let her know me without editing or performing, and it felt deeply uncomfortable.

You see, I love knowing other people, but I hate being known. It’s why many of my friendships are lopsided because it’s easy for me to ask questions and prompt emotional insights in others, but I don’t give others the access, or the trust, to do the same for me. I’m pretty talented at creating one-sided emotional intimacy and fooling people into thinking we’re closer than we are. This skill set allows others to feel cared for while simultaneously keeping the pressure off me. And yes, I’m totally exposing myself by saying this out loud. It’s a brilliant strategy and a lonely one, but it keeps me safe. For those of you who have been rocking with me long enough or hard enough to see glimpses of my other sides, thank you. I know it isn’t easy. 

I wrote earlier how my goal for this year is to "invite love," and, in many ways, this post builds off of that one. Because of this, I’ve tried not to stop myself in the moments where I catch myself being and not performing. My default is to constantly be assessing the people around me and their expectations for me and then strategically present myself in a way that meets those perceived expectations. I don’t change who I am, but I present select pieces and hide others, like a prism that only refracts some of its light. I infrequently, if ever, show up as all that I am at any given time. This includes with family and close friends.

At some point when I was young, I started to believe that I needed to do everything by myself to stay safe and that I had to earn people’s love through my actions or beliefs. That idea was reinforced over time to shape me into who I am now. 

Now, if you share some of my skill sets, you might be wanting to go down the psychoanalysis rabbit hole with me. And trust me, we could. There’s plenty there and plenty yet to discover. But that’s not the point of this conversation. I’m not sure what the point is, but it’s not that. 

If I’m honest with you and with myself, I still operate from a place of believing that people either hate me or love me conditionally. I don’t think I have ever given enough of myself away to receive someone loving me unconditionally. This is an isolating position to be in, especially for someone who usually projects confidence and security. 

I’ve written before about the people that I grew up with and the ones that I have in my life now. So many of them have beautifully complex, challenging, heartbreaking, and humbling backgrounds. I have talked about them and the ways that I’ve benefited from their life experiences and the ways that they’ve opened me up to loving people who are different than me or who society rejects. But the other night, I viewed them in a new light, not just as people who have taught me, but as people who are me. 

The addicted mother who abandoned her children is still loved. The wife who couldn’t decide on a husband so she broke the hearts of many is still loved. The father who loved his child and who preyed on that child’s mother is still loved. The man with the white power tattoo that he doesn’t believe in but that kept him safe in prison is still loved. The woman who berates as her love language is still loved. The father who cheated is still loved. The woman who gave her body when it conflicted with her values is still loved. 

I didn’t use to see myself in them, but now I do. My story might not be as scandalous or merit a memoir as much as theirs, but I have my own issues. I used to think that these people were only loved once they had healed, but as I started to reflect, I realized that very few of them are completely healed. The people in their lives who love them loved them when and love them now, with the full transparency of who they are and who they have been. They are loved not despite who they are but for who they are.

I’m not sure why it’s still so hard for me to believe that kind of love exists when I have witnessed it, given it, and surely unwittingly received it. This gives me hope. It also helps me with my own forgiveness journey, but we’ll save that work in progress for another day.  

I grew up thinking that I needed to do it all on my own to keep myself safe, but as I get older, I’m realizing that isn’t the case. I’m just not quite sure how to fix it yet. 

But I’ll let you into where I start. I’m in a transitional phase of life right now. When people following my journey ask, “How are you doing?” I reply honestly with, “I’m bored and impatient.” In the past, I would’ve said that I was good or I would have tried to wrap up my emotional state of being in a positive, encouraging, “don’t worry about me” bow. I think I’m too tired for that right now. I think this is one way where I can start telling the truth and start letting people in, even when it gives me anxiety, even when I want to push away and retreat to safety, and even when it makes me afraid that they hate me, or pity me, or that I suck. 

I shake whenever I tell the truth in a way that feels vulnerable or exposing. It’s a trauma response that was bestowed upon me two-and-a-half years ago. I hope one day it goes away, but for now, it is what it is. That night, when I left my friend’s house, not only was I filled with anxiety, but I was shaking. I had told the truth. I’m shaking now, too. It’s not easy to be known. I don’t like it. But I think I’m going to start trying it out, little by little, and see if it pays off. 

I’ll let you know how it goes. xx

Abbey 

Titular Song: NOTHING ELSE by Forrest Frank feat. Thomas Rhett

Music Recommendation: I very nearly used “I Need Love” by the Nicotine Dolls as my titular track, but it felt a little too melodramatic for this moment. However, I highly recommend you check them out, particularly their latest album, An Attempt at Romantic. The lead singer’s voice is like tobacco-soaked butter, which seems disgusting but sounds amazing.