...In which I lie down on the metaphorical couch and psychoanalyze myself.
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| Might as well be comfortable when I'm psychoanalyzing... |
Confession tiiiiiiime!
So... I've come to the long-avoided, rather unpleasant realization that I am a coward. Oh, I may put on a good front. Some people may think I'm stubborn. Some may think I'm original, independent, or unaffected by what others think or say. People who know me better might say I'm quiet, shy, or introverted.
Well, sure. So I'm introverted.
However, I have recently had an experience that drove me to the conclusion that, while I may be introverted, stubborn, etc., all of that stems from the wellspring of fear and doubt that lies at the core of my soul. This experience... well actually it wasn't an experience. I was just doing something and I suddenly saw myself and thought -- Uh, anyway, this whole... thing came about as a result of Facebook.
I do have a Facebook, although I don't utilize it much. My mom's posts dominate my timeline -- I think there's one or two posts there that aren't hers, and they're from my aunt. Pathetic, yes, but that's not the point. Anyway, in a typical getting-on-Facebook, I check my notifications. Then I go to flair and get the three daily points. (Does anyone still use that thing? I like it, anyway.) Then I log out.
Sometimes I "like" something someone has said but that's... rare. I think it's been, like, a year since I actually posted a status. I was thinking about that today when I got on, but it was when I visited the profile of my friend's younger sister that it happened. I posted something on her wall, since she just turned thirteen like a month ago and just got a Facebook. I hit 'post', and then a crippling wall of doubt hit me.
What if she got a Facebook a long time ago, and all her stuff is dated two hours ago for some random reason? Then this post would just look out of place and stupid...
I think of her like a little sister, but what if she thinks of me as some random weird person who knows her brother? Then this post would be creepy...
What if me posting on her page embarrasses her in front of her friends, since I'm some random person older than her and not exactly known as the coolest of high-schoolers, and she doesn't want to be associated closely with me?
WHAT IF FOR SOME REASON THIS VIRTUAL COMMUNICATION TOTALLY BLOWS UP IN MY FACE LIKE AN ATOMIC BOMB AND I REGRET THE DAY I WAS BORN BECAUSE I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THIS ON FACEBOOK?!?!?!
What was the post, you ask? Just some little hi-happy-birthday thing. It was one sentence. ONE SENTENCE. And I deleted it; I couldn't take having it out there.
Then I sat back in my chair and pondered my own pathetic-ness. WITW?! I'm just a person, and she's thirteen, and it's not like she's going to care.
At all.
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| What now, Facebookers? |
To make myself feel better, I posted a picture on my timeline and captioned it. MORE ACTIVITY THAN HAS BEEN SEEN IN MONTHS! BOOYEAH!
/facepalm
Why? Why would I do this to myself? Why am I such a freak?
That was when I realized: because I'm a coward.
I don't want to make any mistakes. I don't want to let anyone see inside me, even the tiniest little bit, because I'm afraid they won't like what they see. This is the same reason why I don't like to listen to my own Pandora without headphones. I'm afraid they'll think, "Really? That kind of music?" It's also the same reason why I don't like people to read anything I write, and why this blog is pseudonymously (A unique neologism created just now especially for you guys! Feel special!) written. Only the denizens of the internet are privy to my innermost thoughts, because internet-denizens are too far away (intellectually, emotionally, and metaphorically) to hurt me.
Because of this, you faraway internet-denizens may know me better than most of the people who know me in real life. Certainly better than my Facebook friends, who only see my mom's love when they look at my timeline. But not better than God.
That's the last part of the epiphany I had because, you see, it doesn't matter what people think. Even if they think I'm the most stupid, ugly excuse for a homo sapiens ever to waste the oxygen on our planet, it can't hurt me. All that matters is what God thinks of me, and I'm pretty sure He doesn't care if I say 'hi' to someone on Facebook.
If I spend so much time wondering what people will think of the music I listen to, and it doesn't ever cross my mind to wonder what God would think of it, then something is wrong, for sure. Fo sho. Fo shizzle. Does 'fo sho' have apostrophes after the truncated endings? Fo' sho'? That looks stupid, though...
*ahem*
Anyway, as I was saying, I realized how much I've been measuring my self-worth based on random people's opinions, and how little attention I've been paying to God's. And I've resolved to change that.
I decided to go through my books and throw out ones that wouldn't meet Philippians 4:8 standards, and to also be more careful with my music.
And also, of course, to actually post statuses on Facebook. Sort of desensitizing myself to what people say. Dipping a toe in the oh-so-scary waters of interpersonal disclosure, so to speak.
Really. I am.
Wish me luck. I'm going to need it.
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