My mind has often been a closed door. Bits and pieces of my emotions, thoughts, and psyche are shared, but never in a way that truly makes me vulnerable. Never in a way that really makes me feel…bare. Not even my closest friends get to see ALL my innermost doubts, fears, and conflicts. My innermost hopes, delights, and aspirations. Call it a defense mechanism. Call it insecurity. Call it whatever you want. This is how I’ve lived for as long as I can remember.
As years go on, however, it’s become more and more of a hindrance. An increasingly unbearable load. This unhealthy need to always be funny, content, and emotionally strong. A requirement I thrust onto myself. It’s gotten to the point where sometimes I feel like I’ve become so good at putting on a facade that it gets difficult to pinpoint what I’m truly feeling. Honestly, therapy would not be a bad idea for me (we won’t get into the stigma that therapy has in black society).
All of this is to say that I’ve decided to do some sharing this week and the next. I’m going to try to reveal my soul and be uncharacteristically open with you guys. Ultimately however, I’m doing this so I can be more open with myself. Should be interesting, to say the least.
“Mr. [That Damn African], tear down this wall!”