Exist Loudly

No Pen Required, An Honest Conversation (Mostly with Myself)

I’ve been working on this post for a while. How long is a while? In a writer’s world, too fucking long is how long but it’s been about 1000 days in the making. Huge exaggeration there, but this post has been sitting in my drafts for the last few months or so. The words haven’t flowed easily and my mind has had shiny quarter syndrome while writing it (that means it’s been distracted by all the things it wants to add into the post). I kind of feel that this is a hot mess of a post, so buckle up, keep your hands and feet inside, and enjoy the ride because this is my 4 AM conversation that I’m going to share even if no one is listening. You’re probably thinking, “WTF? 4 AM conversation?!?” 

There is a meme, post, quote, whatever I stumbled across on Pinterest that read “you never really know someone until you talk to them at 4 AM” and there’s this one that reads, “the heavier the eyelids, the more honest the conversations”. Another one I like is, I’m an open book. I just can’t be read unless someone shows interest in the story.” All of those quotes got me thinking about me being vulnerable and how I actually prefer to be honest at 4 AM, 4 PM, and well, through out the whole damn day.

I’m an introvert by nature and people think because of that, I don’t want to share things. Partially true. Mostly not true. My problem is that I don’t think anyone gives a shit about my story. So therefore I do not voluntarily share things or automatically share things. I give pieces and parts, but never the whole shebang. I hide behind a facade that’s barricaded by a steel wall that’s enclosed in concrete and surrounded by land mines because of the following:
-I don’t think anyone cares
-I don’t want to bother anyone
-I don’t want to be vulnerable in fear of being hurt and let down.

As much as I introvert and like my quiet alone time where I do nothing (and that actually means doing nothing), I will be honest I can have verbal diarrhea and I will share my soul and all the uselessness of my mind if I am confident people won’t come in and set off a nuclear bomb and demolish everything. Letting people in and having them break shit is expected. That’s part of life. We’re all klutzes with other people’s property when we’re trying to be careful. Fuck, sometimes we’re klutzes with our own property. Law of whatever you want to call it.

So it’s hard for me to have that 4 AM conversation with people (unless you’re my friend, Heather, and we’re drunk at 4 AM watching Strangers in Dangers and crying real tears between tears of laughter over the dumbest things on the planet and a bottle of wine).

I know I sure as hell have had the 4 AM convo (I’m sure that’s what an Aussie would say versus saying conversation, they love shortening words here) with myself. Myself doesn’t think I don’t care. Myself doesn’t feel like it’s bothering me. Myself doesn’t have a fear of being hurt and let down. Myself to myself is kind of like here I am, ready or not kind of gal. Myself doesn’t care what my head, my heart, my soul, or my intuition thinks. She’s going to say it whether I want her to or not. I like her for that. When interacting with humans, I’d like to be more like her.

In reality, I want to be scream out to the world like Lloyd Dobler (Say Anything) said to his friends, “I want to get hurt.”

I want to be vulnerable with my thoughts, feelings, emotions, people, experiences, etc.

I’m just chicken shit.

Because no matter how brave Lloyd was and said he wanted to get hurt, he got hurt and had to utter the words, “I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.”

He was vulnerable and got a stinking pen. We’ve all been there. Sometimes without a pen.

Being vulnerable is some scary ass shit for me, as I’ve gotten really fantastic at suppressing just about every thought, feeling, emotion, action that has ever crossed my mind into submission and shoved it back into a safe and locked it. I didn’t want to continue living that way though, so one day I honestly said to myself, fuck it, let’s live and enjoy life and not suppress everything. Yet, I’ve still got 2 things going against me when I say, I want to be vulnerable and experience life to the fullest with openness and honesty:
-I’m a human.
-I’m a female.
Good or bad, right or wrong, whatever I do or speak will normally fall into “she’s bat shit crazy”, “she’s hormonal”, “she’s a bitch” or “she’s fucked up”.

Why can’t it be just this, “she’s honest and open with her thoughts, feelings, emotions, and actions”?
If only I can be that way without that god damn pesky fear of being rejected and judged as any of the above.

It’s not even my mind that I fear of being rejected or judged by. My mind and I have our own love/hate relation-shit. (Yep, you read that word right, relation-shit.) I know when my mind is being a judgmental cunt and I know when it’s being a bully. It’s that fear of being rejected and judged by others. It’s that fear that you’re being vulnerable and then rejected and judged because you are being honest and yourself.

I suppose it’s why I write here. Being vulnerable and honest in my writing and is way easier than doing that with the human race. The human race is a cruel and unforgiving beast and is quick to judge and reject things it doesn’t understand or things it can’t put into words or things it’s not ready to face. At least here, I can write, post, and never read the post again if I wanted to. Four people might read it, forty people might read it, or hell, no one might read it. The rejection and judgement is not seen err go no rejection and no judgement.

No pen required.

In the day and age where everyone demands transparency from everyone/everything in all aspects of their lives, they don’t expect or demand it where it counts in matters of the heart and soul.

By the way, I hate the term “transparent”. Don’t be transparent. BE FUCKING HONESTFor me, transparent is I see through your bull shit. Honest is that you care enough to respect me as a human with emotions to tell me the truth. See, I won’t demand anything from anyone. I will give anyone I know or strangers my kindness, my honest thoughts if they ask, and a helping hand. I can only hope that by doing so, I receive the same in return. But that’s another post for another day I do suppose. So back to what I was saying…

I would rather have someone say to me, “Hey, Shelia I think you’re insane for writing this post and sharing it. What if people read it and think it’s about them? What if it makes you seem like you’re a loser?” First, I’d say, thank you for reading the post. The fact that you were moved enough to tell me how you feel about it really means a lot to me. Second, if someone reads anything I write and thinks it’s about them, they’re wrong. I’ll just call one out. (Example, my shout out to Heather above. Still one of my favorite nights with that slut bucket and that is our endearing term of friendship and respect.) I won’t beat around the bush. Life’s too short dudes. I repeat, life is too fucking short. Third, if one thinks I’m a loser for being honest when I write, then simply put, that person can fuck off.

And you know what I find funny is that everyone who demands “transparency”, when they receive it, they’re taken aback by it.

Here’s the thing human race: Don’t ask for transparency, if you can’t handle it. Or, as I would like to say, don’t ask for the truth if you can’t handle it. Fucking, A Few Good Men got it right when Nicholson utters, “You can’t handle the truth.” Some people can’t and some people just don’t want to. I get that 110%. I’ve been on that receiving end of the truth I thought I could handle only to realize, “nope, wasn’t ready for that shit” but I didn’t run screaming into the good night. I just realized Lloyd was right. You got to get hurt. You got to hear the truth. Sometimes you get a pen. Sometimes you get knocked down. You always get up and face your opponent (and that opponent is usually life) and prepare yourself for the next kickboxing round. You might be surprised who shows up ringside to support you in your fights. You might find yourself like Lloyd, off on a plane to an unknown land to chase dreams. You just never fucking know. The truth is always the right thing even when it sucks.

I’m 99.9% sure people don’t want to know, I wonder if penguins have knees or that I believe that some of the “ancient astronaut” theories sound completely plausible or that I’ve cried over more RuPaul’s Drag Race/Untucked episodes than I have over chick flicks, but I’ll share it with people if they’re interested. I also will stop sharing the moment I sense people have tuned out. Don’t ask if you really don’t want to know or at least have the cajones to say, “whoa, overload, break please.”

If you want to know if I think you’re a douche nozzle…well, if you’re asking, don’t be surprised if I tell you that you are a giant douche nozzle.
I’m not Willy Wonka, I don’t know how to sugarcoat shit.

It’s that simple, if you ever want to know my truths, thoughts, opinions, feelings, etc…just ask.