Tested

I’ve done a considerable amount of thinking over the last few days.  As much enjoyment and excitement as I feel about my quest to eat real foods…I don’t think I’ll change the name of this blog.

On that long-ago October night, when I was sleep deprived and up (again) with a 7 year old Stephen, when I thought maybe I’d start a blog, the Pink Floyd song that lends its name to this site drifted into my head with its perfect, delicate mix of despair and hope. I’ve always hoped to use these pages to share my honest and oftentimes gut wrenching feelings…to share my inside thoughts with an outside world.

In today’s cultural climate we’re inundated with images, sounds, advertisements, subliminal messages.  We communicate via computer or text message.  We are, as MIT professor Sherry Turkle's book states, Alone Together.  I’m almost as guilty as my teenage son of using these media to “connect” with other human beings.  A case in point: one of Kerry’s friends “texted” him to invite him to a movie.  Kerry is notoriously bad at checking his phone, so he missed out on the fun.  When I said, “I wonder why he didn’t just call our home number?” Kerry told me later that his friend “didn’t even think of that.”  We are alone, together!  The very words streaming from my fingers are destined to be published on the web…a desperate, even pitiable attempt to throw a lifeline out, to see if anyone is out there in a world that seems farther and farther away from my isolated little family unit.  This blog has always been about crying out, about seeking validation, even approval.  Every time I click “publish,” I wait anxiously to see if anyone notices, or better yet, comments.  For a minute or two, I feel…important.  Valued.  I matter.  What I say matters.

I do not mean to imply that over the years of this blog, the thoughts torn loose from a heart sore and heavy with pain are somehow untrue, or embellished in any way…or God forbid a raw bid for pity.  No, like any card-carrying introvert, I simply find it much easier to express myself “on paper.”  But, would I find it nearly excruciating to sit across from any of my readers and express these thoughts?  Undoubtedly I would.  Would I fidget and stammer over my words?  Would I say the same things I say here?  Am I wearing the inside out?  Why is it so hard to look each other in the eye?  I can’t blame it all on my Myers-Briggs personality type. Why do we hide behind the very devices that purport to encourage a sense of community?

For years I’ve been a member of an online bulletin board dedicated to the band Rush.  At first it didn’t really occur to me that it might be important to avoid building an internet persona – a character that I could customize to be whomever I wanted her to be.  Isn’t the internet the perfect playground for branching out, being a little different, creating the person you wish you were?  It can be, and for many people, that’s almost all that it is.  But when I found myself carefully crafting sentences, trying to be extra clever, or meticulously searching for just the right picture of me or my kids (!) to really drive home what a supercool person I was…it hit me.  To borrow from Turkle again: I was experiencing what is called “presentation anxiety” over how best to demonstrate to the internet the image I was unconsciously creating.  It’s like a mask we wear…and as long as we never meet or connect in the outside world, the illusion stays intact, and we pretend to ourselves that we’re involved in each other’s lives.  Does this encourage true community? 

Luckily, early in my years of making “internet friends,” I was able to meet some of them in person – and I knew I wanted to be the same person online or in the flesh.  My point is that the temptation is there, to make yourself seem different in some way…because it’s safe when you pretend to interact but in reality hold others at arm’s length.  I hope the very dear friends to whom I’m referring would agree that we are truly friends in every sense of the word, and I’m grateful for that.  This isn’t just about long-distance friends you’re not likely to see very often, though.  Ever seen someone you know in the store and gone out of your way NOT to run into them?  Be honest…

I must come clean about a few things, while I’m being so transparent – these confessions are part of my self-induced therapy.  I can no longer moan and groan to myself in my journal about the extra weight…and then eat so many Double-Stuf Oreos I lose count.  I can’t complain about feeling friendless when I grab my phone to text someone (keeping that safe buffer zone in place) instead of calling and hearing their voice.  I can’t whine about being miserable at work when I know in my heart I haven’t given it my all each day.  I can’t look myself in the eye in the mirror, pitying myself as a poor dear who has SO much on her shoulders, and then do nothing to take care of myself in the way that I deserve.

I’ve come to the conclusion that being honest on the internet is a true test of one’s integrity and sense of self, regardless of whether you ever come face to face with your target audience, be it friends at a Rush concert, or the neighbor down the street that you’ve “friended” on Facebook but never walk down the street to, you know…talk to…

As I continue to strive toward a better life, I want to commit to myself that I will also make it a more honest life.  I will tell the truth about what I’m feeling.  I will tell the truth about what I’m eating, about how I’m caring for myself.  I will not craft an image.  Like other writers before me, I long to have you, the reader, know me.  I want to tell you on these pages the thoughts that my voice could never fully express.  But on the happy occasion that I do see one of you face to face…I don’t want you to wonder what happened to that person who wrote all that stuff on the internet about autism and real food and finding meaning in the life you lead.

So this blog will continue to be my venting spot, my recipe book, my dream repository – with a renewed sense of truth running throughout, a thread stringing together the beads of my days and my years.
I’m wearing the inside out.

Blogspot Tags: autism, honesty, integrity, living a full life