Apathetic Me

I was loading up my car with my supplies uptown after cleaning a house and I saw signs on a neighbor's house that said, "Smile! You're on camera" posted in multiple places.  I panicked for a minute, like I had been doing something wrong and someone was going to catch me on video.  Then I realized the silliness of this thought and relaxed.  I was torn between being grateful that they had a camera outside in case someone stole something from my car versus the feeling of being violated.

Crazy hair ... just don't care

As a house cleaner, I see the inner workings of people's homes.  It is fascinating the difference between people's public personality and their private one.  Not that I know them privately, but I get a small glimpse of it.  It made me think about who really knows us...what we show people as opposed to the person we are unintentionally when we are intimate with someone.

When I was writing about the personal life of a divorcee, it made me quite uncomfortable.  I knew it would be upsetting to some.  I knew it would outrage others.  But I also knew there would be the few that understood and would be glad someone finally spoke it.  So out of that place, I chose to write about it.  For if I'm behaving in a way that is shameful, I should not be behaving that way at all.  And I've worked too hard to rid myself of shame only to hide amongst it again.

What is it that impels us to pretense?  Why are we so deathly afraid of people really knowing us?  Of the neighbor hearing us yell at our kids?  Why are we afraid of people catching us on camera unknowingly?  Or reading our journal?  Or getting a glimpse into the raw side of who we are simply because we can't control the emotion anymore?  Why do we fight so hard against being authentic?

My dear friend is very sensitive to others.  She can read people well as a result.  But she is also affected by them more easily.  To her, I am insensitive and brusque.  I am affected only by a small handful of people.  I lack empathy.  I can logically understand others, but the emotional side of me doesn't empathize often.

I wasn't always this way.  I believe I must have gradually become that because I was a boss who was frequently berated.  Or perhaps it was when Graham was in the hospital and I cried untapped.  Or maybe it was having my heart broken so many times.  Or maybe it was having to date and finding that rejection is around every interaction.  Whatever it was that created this hardness in me is not going away and prevents me from remembering what it was like to live without it.

There is freedom in having this covering.  It means I most likely do not think much about the opinions of others.  I can logically listen and accept them, and perhaps filter them through what I know to be true of myself, but tears are typically not part of that process.  I remember years ago my sister in law telling me that one of her favorite things about me was that I didn't care what other people thought.  At the time, this was a shocking thing to hear because I most definitely did care.  But I also remember thinking that I hoped one day that statement would be true.

Well, I've arrived.  Or not.  Perhaps I digressed.  Whatever the sentiment is around this, the fact remains.  I largely do not care what other people think.

I instructed my sister years ago to burn all my journals if I should die before her.  She laughingly said, "not a chance.  I'm gonna publish them and be rich!"  The sheer terror of this statement made me sweat like a sinner in church.  Now, however, I'm not sure I would mind. 

I am equal parts sinner and saint.  I am equal parts kind and mean.  I am equal parts considerate and destructive.  My guess is most of us have these dichotomies residing within us.  So why the urgency to hide?

Big brother is watching...whether it's through the eyes of your kids or a camera on the street.  He is watching and we cannot hide.