Exposure

ex·po·sure

/ikˈspōZHər/

noun

1. 1.

   the state of being exposed to contact with something.

   
   
2. 2.

   the revelation of an identity or fact, especially one that is concealed or likely to arouse disapproval.

This may be my rawest post to date if I can walk through the fires of fear and allow myself to get burned.  I can no longer be stagnant.  I need to keep moving through growth, through pain and through disappointment.  I know I'll never reach the other side, whatever that may be, but I need to keep looking in that direction.  Brutal self honesty is my only hope.  I fear who will leave in the process.  I worry about others not being able to take it.  But my movement towards peace in my life journey is more important than the thoughts and opinions of the weak. Was that a little judgey?  Yep.  And if weakness gives you happiness and joy then please revel in it.  But know that I'm not your people.

One of my greatest fears is being forced to expose information about myself that's not on my terms.  I've written before about how I overshare to avoid vulnerability, and use performances in the same way, to give you the illusion I've said a lot when it's all a diversion tactic.  Opening up and sharing intimate details about myself, my fears, my insecurities, things I've done; has been used against me many times.  Even with those closest to me, who love me unconditionally (yeah, there's a few), I still fear there is some dealbreaker lurking, so I need to be careful about what I say.  I don't like being laughed at unless I'm telling the joke with myself as the punchline.  I don't like the feeling that someone has something on me.  I want to be in control of everything about me. 

Yet I'm not in control at all.  This past week I came home to a note on my door saying I had to get rid of my cat, Teddy, because it was against the rules to have pets. Now being the hyper vigilant freak that I am, I of course had read the rules.  Reread them and it said cats were allowed.  I called the board president, who left the note on my door, and started a rant about what the rules said.  What we ultimately figured out is that when I bought my place they gave me the rules for the wrong condo.  The building next to me allows cats and mine does not.  Of course if I could prove Teddy was my emotional support animal I could keep him.  It would mean having my doctor fill out a form stating my diagnosis, why I need him, and then the board has to approve or deny.  The board president hates me and has spent the last year and a half ready to pounce if I breathe wrong.  She truly does it with glee.  I consider her my arch enemy and now I have to let her know my shit in order to keep my cat.  Fuck.  

So my doctor filled out their form (which had questionable language) and my therapist is writing a letter.  I feel confident I'll be approved and a back up plan (big ass lawsuit) is in place if they dare deny me.  But now strangers get to know I have PTSD.  That bitch who can't stand me gets to know where I am weak.  I didn't want this and I can't even speak for myself as it calls for "professional opinion".  It's making me ill.  No control.

Lots of people have PTSD so what's the big deal, right?  It's not the diagnosis but more all the reasons I have PTSD. I work so hard to maintain this facade of being powerful and unshakable.  I don't want anyone know how to get to me.  While I work hard, intensely responsible, and have my shit together....keeping control of this information feels vital to survival.  

I'm pretty certain that my path is actually all about exposure.  I know and believe that if I can allow true vulnerability, and see that another can hold my trauma and still stay, that I could truly heal.  I know I have experiences that others need to hear.  I believe someone needs to hear the goriest of details of my worst shame so they can find their way out too.  I was given this big ass mouth for a reason.  (And nobody had better dare say "everything happens for a reason" or I'll cut you).  I need to be able to expose myself with my head held high and not shaking with terror.  I'm close.

“I was going to die, sooner or later, whether or not I had even spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silences will not protect you.... What are the words you do not yet have? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence? We have been socialized to respect fear more than our own need for language.

Next time, ask: What's the worst that will happen? Then push yourself a little further than you dare. Once you start to speak, people will yell at you. They will interrupt you, put you down and suggest it's personal. And the world won't end.

And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have discovered your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And at last you'll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking.”

― Audre Lorde