Lately, I've been feeling the old, familiar urge to withdraw.
I guess in some ways I've actually gone through with it.
I've thought a lot about whether or not to keep writing. Or rather, I've been going back and forth on whether or not to keep publishing what I'm writing. Because, to level with you, despite some of the positively exciting things that have been falling into place, I've been trudging through quite a difficult season of life recently. And, while I haven't shared the full extent of what that's looked like with you, I'm worried it's seeping into this space anyway. The story I'm telling myself is that you don't want (or need) to hear my woes. Why would you?
But I've really been going through it at the moment.
And, in general, I'm a very private person. Hence, feeling torn about how much to publish. Which, even I have to admit is a kind of funny thing to say for a guy who writes a daily column where he shares examples from his own life to make his points. For some reason, I'm pretty comfortable sharing like that—from scar tissue rather than open wounds (that phrasing is something I picked up from the book, How to Tell a Story, by The Moth). In this regard, I admit I can be quite forthcoming. However, I still consider myself an incredibly private person.
I don't like being watched while dealing with my open wounds.
In fact, I really, really hate it. So, maybe what I mean is that I'm uncomfortable with disclosing unprocessed vulnerability. But I keep finding myself thinking about all that's going on in my life lately, and I can't stop writing about it (much of which, I haven't been publishing). When facing the urge to withdraw—to delete Substack and Instagram, and to refrain from publishing my writing—I keep getting tripped up by the same thing... I've done all that before and it hasn't helped. There's this voice in my head that pops up and reminds me that going into my shell has only ever increased the distance between myself and those who care about me. I've been very conflicted about it. Not writing will elongate the unresolved murkiness I've been feeling and not publishing is, in itself, a form of withdrawing. But will sharing while wounded help or hurt?
I've thought myself in and out of clarity here.
So, while in the muck with that urge to withdraw, I texted three of my closest friends this week instead. I was real honest with them about how I've been feeling. All three responded with thoughtful paragraphs upon paragraphs that made me feel so, sooo heard. Really listened to, you know? Supported and cared about.
They all told me they loved me.
Voluntold a time for a call.
And I just—
I love them for that.
* * *
How lucky am I?
onward.
For more on this daily column, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.