Things have been a little quiet on the blog lately. I’d like to say that’s because so many big and loud and important things have been going on here under our big top. Like maybe I’ve been busy busting my butt losing thirty pounds, or organizing our disastrous closets for some sort of big bloggy reveal, or founding a community arts organization for underserved kids.
The truth is, a lot of mid-sized, quiet, and terrifying things have been blowing around here, under our tent. I’ve spent the last couple weeks curled up in a chair with a cup of coffee trying to figure out how to make them funny and blog-worthy.
I got nothing.
I think I’m going to put up some fliers.
So, I’ve got a conundrum. Furthermore, I think it’s a conundrum many of us would-be truth-tellers face: It’s fairly easy to be honest and brave and opinionated if you can wrap it all up in a pretty little package of self-depricating humor. We can fool ourselves into thinking that we are telling the truth, because, after all, we’re sharing all that embarrassing stuff – that stuff we’re supposed to be ashamed of: our crappy finances, our dirty houses, our swearing children. We’re like the Anti-Pinterest.
The Anti-Pinterest Board
God knows, looking at someone else’s mess and saying, “Me too! Me too!” and laughing our butts off together feels really good. But sometimes, what we are traveling through is just inherently NOT FUNNY. Sometimes it’s not something you can crack a joke about at brunch or on the playground, or even (gasp) on your blog. So you’re left with two choices: Shut up or Show up.
I’ve been shutting up. But it feels like cheating. After all, sneaking around under the invisibility cloak of snark and humor is not, technically, walking through life unarmed. And that’s what I’m trying to do here. I’m trying to be open and aware and vulnerable and kind and compassionate, and I’m trying to teach my kids to be that way too, because that’s how we make this big, messy, beautiful world a better place.
So, I’m going to try showing up. I’m going to try showing up even though I’m totally jacked up. I’m going to show up and talk about being scared and uncertain and lonely and isolated and jealous and totally in love with my life and totally terrified of my life. And hopefully we’ll have a bunch of those “Me too! Me too!” moments. And that will feel really good even if we’re crying instead of laughing.
Surely, someday very soon, my sense of humor will show up too. But when that bitch gets back, she will be only my traveling companion and not my chaperone.