The end of my nose is as cold as my toes while I sit on my bed, laptop on my legs. I’m feeling uninspired, disconnected from myself and pressured to blog. It’s been a couple days, I should keep up. But what to say?

If Natalite Goldberg were here she would tell me to just start writing. “Junk,” even.

So that’s what I do. A list of sorts, the words staggered like the black and white of piano keys, down the binding of my journal.

Talk to Mom in the car.
Tears.
Psalm 34
Rabbit food for dinner.
Sore throat.
Meeting.
Dark when I get home.

It seems so pointless. How do I ever find anything about which to write?
Dig. Deeper. Deeper still.

I start to realize I’m holding back. This public arena, it’s a place to be honest and vent and explore, but with everything? How do I know what I give here will be handled respectfully, delicately, or honored? I don’t. It is unsafe.

And isn’t this the waltz of relationships? (I’m not really a waltz kind of gal but hokey pokey didn’t really flow)

“Healthy relationship is defined by commitment,” I heard recently. “I can show you everything because I know you aren’t going anywhere.”

Ah, a place for the ugly and inadequate parts of me. Yes, that is a risky place. I often do this backwards. There’s coffee in the hands and friendship in the works and I dive right in. The good, the bad, the ugly. I pour out, tell it all, because that’s how you make friends, right? No one wants to hang out with someone who is nicely sharpened all the time. But it’s around this time when  I hear the force of an uneasy laugh, see the twist of a wrist as the person across from me checks their watch. I recognize these signs from before, and it’s a palm in my face that says: You, are too much. And instead of getting commitment, I get rejection. Instead of connection, a void. It’s left me cut and careful.

But they need to be known, these less-than-sparkling pieces of me.

“We hide our truest selves and offer only what we believe is wanted, what is safe. We act in self-protective ways and refuse to offer what we truly see, believe, and know. We will not risk rejection or looking like a fool. We have spoken in the past and been met with blank stares and mocking guffaws. We will not do it again. We hide because we are afraid. We have been wounded and wounded deeply. People have sinned against us and we have sinned as well. To hide means to remain safe, to hurt less. At least that is what we think. And so by hiding we take matters into our own hands. We don’t return to our God with our broken and desperate hearts. And it has never occurred to us that in all our hiding, something precious is also lost- something the world needs from us so very, very much.”                               -John Eldredge, Captivating

So I tread lightly, until I know you are safe. And then I vomit my heart all over you. Consider it a privilege.