You Can’t Take It With You

I realized recently that I’ve lost a few friends on Facebook. I’m pretty sure this is because of things I’ve written on my blog. Initially I was excited because I’ve always heard you haven’t “arrived” until you’ve offended someone via your blog. The other part of me was saddened and worried by it.

My blog is a mixed bag sprinkled with some fiction and non-fiction, but even my fiction is loosely based in some sort of reality. I’ve blogged about people in my life. Those people may not have appreciated what I had to say, despite it being the truth. While I can certainly understand that, I haven’t painted anyone in an unkind light. Yet, these are my memories, my perspectives, and my side of the story. You’ll never know the other side. Par for the course.

But you know what? I had to say it. I had to write it. I’m a writer and this is my truth. This blog is my creative space. I’m not here to be Ms. Nicey Nancy and try to make everyone worship me–I’m here to write because I must. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

Last week I told my daughters for the first time, “Mommy is a writer,” and they looked at me with furrowed brows. Not sure why I never told them before, but they’ve always known Daddy is a surgeon. Now they know about the real me, too.

The people I’ve written about? Names have been changed, characteristics altered….events/ circumstances? Not so much. If I’ve offended, I have to just let go. Say goodbye. I can’t carry that weight with me into the new year, there’s too much at stake. If you don’t like me, if you don’t like what I write? There’s a sting, but it’s quick and then it’s over. I can’t carry the heaviness with me, a feeling of fault. I’ve done nothing wrong by simply speaking my truths.

The lesson here? Not everyone is gonna love me. And I’m learning to be okay with that.