Oh yeah....

So, once upon a time, this was an anonymous blog. The first post or two I ever wrote, way, way, way long ago, were very frank accounts of what I was thinking. I didn't especially feel the need to censor myself, since I was quite sure no one I knew would be wandering by, and if they did, by chance, they wouldn't actually know it was me. That's why my handle is dk, and not just outright Kate.

When I was getting ready to leave for NC, my friends convinced me that I needed a public blog, so they could follow my adventures (and mundanity) when I was so far away. I could easily have just started a different blog, but there was something about the one I already had to which I felt attached. And to be honest, I'm a really well defended person (note the difference from "defensive"), so even in anonymity, that kind of extreme openness was really difficult. Plus, that was a point in my life when my defenses needed to be particularly strong and well-structured, so it wasn't the time to push that. Thus, I deleted my initial efforts, and started again. In retrospect, it was a reenactment of my real world - I was starting over, trying to be open about things I didn't need to be ashamed of, to be accepting of myself. Less about what others wanted me to be. More about what I think, feel, and know, but in that truth, of course, still guarded - particularly acutely - still measured, but more authentic than the previous few years of my life had been.

As the years have passed, I have a more regular readership; more of my family, more of my co-workers (hopefully none of my patients), more people I really do know, either through actual real life or from the blogosphere. This makes me sanction myself differently, I think, but regardless, I don't mind; it's something I find strangely reassuring about my relationship with the people who are real and important in my life. Yes, it means my thoughts are more filtered - i.e., I don't talk much about the dysfunction of my various families, I lose the ability to complain about my coworkers, and I sometimes have to think pretty hard about what I want people to know who can look me in the face the next morning and have an opinion on it.

It's funny how, despite the exhibitionist, narcissistic, self-important nature inherent in blog writing, so much of what I do here is centered around other people, even before I type a single character. And I'm cool with that. I always have been a fan of irony.

But every now and then, I have these moments where I remember that, in fact, this is my blog. It's a window into who I am, regardless of how tightly I pull the curtains from time to time. I have no particular reason to be ashamed of who I am, or why I am this. And I forget, sometimes, that this is an acceptable forum for being who I am.

Curious, though, that this is the incident which led me to this musing.

I had barely a confrontation this morning with someone I considered a friend. Not necessarily a "good" friend, but someone to whom I felt connected in a couple of different ways. Someone I know to be resistant, but, being who I am, I tend to tolerate resistance fairly well, and to be frank, thought there was progress. And after a little too much ambiguity for a little too long, I finally took the "What exactly is going on, here?" road (in much more subtle language). And...I can't say that didn't work out, because I'm always a fan of knowing over not knowing. And I think drawing a boundary in this case was actually an important communication in itself. But the answer was sort of painful, for a variety of reasons for which this particular friend is and is not responsible.

I responded, on the surface, reasonably, I think. Internally? I felt for a moment like my little boat had been capsized.

Not that this friend has all that much power, but the issues activated were much greater. So I did my best to let those pass, tried not to fight them, to figure out what was at the real heart of the situation.

I gave up on what I'd been doing (because, well, distracted...), and I picked Mags up and we went over to State Hospital. Which may seem like a weird place to walk your dog and think, but trust me, that's just the place. The grounds are beautiful, there's a lot of open space to run (if you're Maggie) and a lot of trees and sunshine and scenery (if you're me). The place has a mojo, you know? Lots of stories of hauntings abound, but whatever, the place has a very old energy. So we went, and we walked a little. Maggie played with some other dogs, I played with some other owners, and both Mags and I made new friends. It was a great choice.

And what I came to, eventually, was that under the anger and defensiveness and fear of what had been stirred, was mostly disappointment. At that, mostly in my friend's lack of insight. There was some sadness and a little bit of sorrow about the things here that I can't fix (because that's what I do, I fix things). And ultimately - really, the part that was and still is painful several hours later - a good deal of recognition of the things I can fix; that is to say, the things that are mine. Unfortunately, none of those will particularly help this individual situation, but they will help my own journey.

Here's another thing I notice: when people are coming from a defensive place, they tend to say the exact opposite of what they really mean. Not always knowingly, and in fact, they probably consciously hold that what they really feel in that moment is what they're saying. But in the light of authenticity, this is rarely what they actually feel.

Today? That I know this, and my friend seems not to, makes me really, really sad.