Facebook...

The next morning I turn the computer on to see I have a “friend request” on Facebook from Jeff. I readily accept then let my mind go a little insane over the amount of information I choose to share on Facebook.
For instance, my blog. (Hey ya’ll!) My entire life with all it’s thoughts and experiences are documented and out there for the world to see. I chose to put it out there, to share and for the most part it has been met with love. There are times though where it’s been criticized, or my grieving process has been judged and it sends me into a frenzy. I also have trouble with what to write at times, wanting to let you into my thoughts and life but also feeling scared, or protective over all of it to a point where I won’t share anything.
Then… there’s the dating factor. I question how much to share with the world, because well, anyone who walks into my life can read about all my past stuff and know about it before I’m ready to share it on a more personal level with them. Of course this is a choice I make and continue to make but it’s always in the back of my mind. I feel I hide a lot from people out of fear. I fear once I let you in, let you see all of me, you’ll go away, you won’t want me. I can’t even let my own self in. How can I let someone else in?
A coworker asked why do I blog? Why put everything out there in such a way where I can never take it back.
“Sure I get writing in a journal and not letting anyone see that. I get writing to get your feelings out, but why is there a need to share…with everyone?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I like it. I like knowing there are people out there who care or are at least curious. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I don’t share much with people and this is a way to do so in a controlled environment. I feel I can connect with people and share my experience through something that is easier for me than talking face to face. I really can’t fully explain it. I still keep a journal and I am able to write about stuff I don’t post on my blog but when I write to you out here I can tap into other things I wouldn’t normally have thought about for some reason and I (as frustrating as it can be sometimes) enjoy the process.
“I still don’t understand the need for it. I’m glad it works for you, I just don’t understand.”
We have to agree to disagree because I can’t explain it the way I want.
February is tough. Rob and I met on the tenth which is my parent’s wedding anniversary as you know. I’m already feeling a bit squirrelly over it. Part of me wants to feel whatever it is I need to feel and part of me wants to be completely numb. This constant internal battle simply creates anger. That I can do. On some level it’s like I search for something to channel that anger to release what’s underneath instead of just letting what’s underneath out. I don’t know how to unlock it though. I’m not even sure I’m willing.
I like to think we met in February so that after he died the entire month would be filled with the hearts and love. I am reminded everywhere I go that he is still very much here despite all my feelings.
I find myself yet again dating someone new while feeling all of this. I can barely deal with myself. How do I take on another person? I feel like Rob and I are a package deal when it comes to letting someone else into my life. I don’t know how to share my experience out of fear of the reaction from the person I’m sharing it with. It’s easy to just be quiet, or let my anger take over…
My work day is filled with wonderful clients, and sweet text messages from Jeff. Assisting feels like a distant memory all the sudden as I race from client to client, always in motion and never stopping. I had forgotten what it was like to be a stylist. Only briefly though! I enjoy feeling hair beneath my fingers instead of towels or foil. I love all the conversations and the decision making. I also enjoy that I’m able to answer my client’s questions, am able to freely give my opinion when they ask and feel confident in my ability to do so. This wasn’t so much a reality in Atlanta and something I desperately wanted to attain while here in Chicago. The whole experience has been an absolute dream.
When it’s all said and done, I pack up and head home. I missed the Metra (the fast train…) and settle onto the red line of the CTA until I reach my stop and have to will my legs to move to catch the bus home and fall into bed.