**
This world is very strange, and these spaces that we occupy within it are interesting. As much as we talk about being our authentic self, I don’t think we ever are. I mean, not in every space at least. I am not speaking for everyone, and it isn’t true all the time.
What is authentic? Something real, true, what people say it is, according to one definition.
I feel that different people will describe me in different ways that may make others say, “Is she really like that?” But it’s still me. The me at work is not the me at church or the me with my friends, but I’m still real and true. Revealing various aspects of yourself with some people and not others doesn’t tarnish authenticity, that I understand. Because there’s a time and place for everything, and if you’re wise, you’ll realize that and adjust accordingly.
Presently, I’m looking at the spaces that I occupy with a new, critical eye. The illusion of liberty, the control exerted, the lack of choice. That if you express yourself in particular way you lose something --- patronage, employment, relationships, etc. How you have to compromise something, let go of something, in order to either maintain peace, or maintain your position. I am not seeking a liberty that allows me to do what I want, when I want, however I want. I don’t believe any living person has that sort of liberty, and if they have it, they’re causing harm to themselves and others in one way or the other.
There’s always a need to package, repackage. The reason I bring this up is because I read a few of my blog posts from the early days and now. And I feel like I lost something….well, maybe not lost, but I could be honest back then in a way that I’m not right now. I mean, I haven’t told a lie, but that raw, unencumbered, unfiltered voice is covered. And I’m wondering, is it me that I’m protecting? If so, from what? What happened then and now that I can’t talk about? Why have I clammed up and why is it a struggle to open that door again? Should I keep it shut? And if I must, am I being my “authentic” self?
There’s definitely an illusion of liberty everywhere. Somewhere. Perhaps it’s just me, and I must find this space where I’m feeling imprisoned and come out of it. Or perhaps it’s annoyance at realizing that there are some battles I have to relinquish to win the war. Only, I’m not sure, in whichever situation I’m in, which war I’m trying to win.
