(All the pictures are from Mount Usher Gardens in Ashford, Co. Wicklow)
I took a week off blogging and I have great excuses, but It’s the excuse that stops me going back to blogging that I want (well, really don’t want) to write about now. So… in general I share on this blog the stuff that’s difficult for me. Normally, the sharing makes me uncomfortable up to a value of 7-ish (that’s out of 10, 10 being death by shame – of my ego.) But this post pushes the discomfort way up to a 9 or 9.5, so I’m feeling (or my ego is feeling) very sick. Like, vomit-inducing sick, so maybe you need to stand back….
(Path with gate… open the gate)
I had a heart-to-heart conversation last week with someone who shall remain nameless and reads every post I publish. She told me I wrote some nice things but I wasn’t practicing what I preached. First blow to my ego armour. Although wounded (ego, not really) I did realise she meant this as a compliment. Unfortunately, I was too caught up in the shame I didn’t ask which particular nice thing was I not practicing. Instead, I buckled under said shame. The shame of being thought of as someone who preaches, someone who thinks they’re better than others and someone who is being dishonest. Second, third and fourth blow. At that stage I though I might be mortally wounded, so a good time to protect my shame.
(Path with steps… get ready)
Right so, I figured the best way to protect my shame was to hide. Yep, that feels good. And I have a brilliant hiding idea – I’ll stop the writing. Grand, I can do that. Well, I’d have to because it was beginning to dawn on me that there was probably more than one nice thing I was preaching about and not practicing. Since (I think) I am writing about all the things I find difficult, it’s probably accurate to say that I’m not too good at practicing them. Ok, I’ll stop the writing.
(Grassy path… soft landing)
So to summarise, I’m talking then, I’m wounded, then mortally wounded, then I go off to hide, I sit in my little cave, safe and sound and everyone lives happily ever after. Not really. There’s a leeetle problem….. sitting in my safe cave I come to realise that the writing (this now potentially dangerous – to ego – activity) is one of my precious things… the things that are really precious to me, the things I really need to share. Oops.
(Winding path with no end in sight… trust)
I can’t stop the writing… and really, I don’t want to. Instead, I’ll have to come out of my safe cave. I’ll have to find a way to realise that the wounds aren’t real and they aren’t serving me. I’ll have to go out on the ledge, again… on my own.
Just to be clear:
I am telling you how things are for me.
I am not saying I can do this.
I am not saying you should do this.
I am not promising I won’t go back to hiding.
I am saying that practicing this might be too hard for me.
I am saying I’m going to take the first step and only then consider taking another step.
And lastly, I like heart-to-heart talks (even if my ego doesn’t) so the me (when she’s not protecting her ego) thanks the someone who shall remain nameless for giving me this insight. Really, thank you.
I’m not saying I’ll like the next heart to heart though, Mairead.