I never feel quite as alive as when I’m being rebuked for something.
It’s like all of my blood freezes in place; my breathing shallow; my eyes wide and nearly watering.
Truly, every other moment in life is blissful dreams compared to how a perfectionist feels when being asked to improve.
The problem this time is that I have no filter.
I don’t know when to stop.
And I sometimes even take a kind of sick pleasure from seeing people squirm when I break conversational norms.
I’ve been told many times by loving friends and family (and my therapist) that there is a place and a time to share my story; a right and a wrong way to convey information. I am quite accustomed to the solemn head shake that means: “Have you no shame?”
My parents, siblings, and husband have taken to ignoring my crass and provocative commentary, noting wisely that usually I just want a reaction from them. It certainly takes the fun out of being blunt, but it hasn’t stopped me yet.
What isn’t fun is when I take my genuine, teasing, curious personality into situations that I perceive as safe and welcoming, when in fact I should have checked “Miss Blunt” at the door. My reasoning? “Miss Blunt” is fun, but she can lead to a rebuke.
As I’ve been thawing out my frozen blood all day with hot tears, blankets, and cocoa, I’ve officially learned that there is a time to be genuine Maney, and there is a time to be someone else. It’s a skill I needed to learn, and painful though it has been (and will be), rest assured that I will try to remain vulnerable, sincere, and genuine as I write to you, dear readers.
Keep being brave as much as you can. I still have anxiety and depression on the daily, but I’m still going and I hope you are too.