Misunderstood

 
When I wrote about pap smears, I felt a little misunderstood.

Most people thought it was about fear of doctors, and started sending messages.

But when you really look at my words, just my words, you can see it was really just about procrastination.

And it was MOSTLY about making people laugh about my silly life and absurd behaviors.

So when I started getting what I though were unrelated comments, I though to myself Am I doing this writing thing wrong?

Maybe I’m just not a great writer and I don’t know how to get my point across.

But then I also thought

Maybe we live in a hyper-individualized world that people inject so much of themselves into my words that they become open to misinterpreting them.

And I think both are true.

And to clarify- I love when my honesty inspires other people to be honest and share their story. But sometimes the lines get blurred and people read into my writing things that aren’t there, and started giving unrelated advice. (Don’t you think that’s what was kind of going on here?)

But that still goes to say, writing is hard.

Because when you write, you have a specific tone and mood and message in mind. And when you share your writing, you open yourself to the floodgates.

When I wrote Cancer is still a BIG DEAL, People aren’t doing enough for us, and other Cancer Feels, it WASN’T about “People aren’t doing enough.”

That wasn’t the point.

The point was that I was FEELING like People Weren’t Doing Enough, which is TOTALLY different than people ACTUALLY not doing enough.

I did not accuse people of not doing enough, it wasn’t meant to be a rallying cry to the masses, and I only needed to sort through my feelings.

(Those feelings being that cancer didn’t seem like Big Deal anymore, which I blame no one for.)

I just needed to get out all my Cancer Feels, hence the title.

 

__________

 
Not feeling completely, totally, and perfectly understood 100% of the time makes me want to give up blogging and honesty and social media forever. It makes me want to crawl in a hole and never come in contact with another person who could possibly hurt me or misinterpret me or say something dumb.

But that’s unrealistic. And that’s not real life. And that’s not LIVING.

Life is messy. People are messy. And I am messy.

And we need to stop being so darn afraid of the mess.

I need to stop being so afraid of the mess.

Because trudging through the messiness is where REAL LIFE happens.

So when I think to myself

Write or not write?
Filter or not filter?
Honesty or dishonesty?
Authentic or fake?

Deep down, I know the answer.

I’m going to keep letting my heart bleed all over this blog.

I will try to clarify when I’m confusing.

I will extend grace to those who misinterpret me.

And I will keep writing through the pain and the feels.
 
 
 
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