Emotional Honesty

From my journal, dated January 23, 2012 (age 17)

Why can’t we always say what we want? There are a million things I would like to say to different people. Yet I don’t dare. I’m terrified, of what, I don’t know. Of revealing myself I guess.

Today I was working on my scholarship essays, and it’s amazing how much I don’t tell. It’s not judgment from the scholarship judges I’m worried about, because I know I’ll never meet them. I know, though, that before I send these essays in, my dad and maybe my mom will read them: my harshest critics. It’s sad that there’s no one I feel comfortable enough with to express my deepest and truest feelings.

I’m so used to keeping my guard up, that I don’t realize it at all, until it’s down. Sometimes, after a particular conversation or event, I get this strange dreadful feeling: the feeling of “I just opened up too much and I just revealed too much about myself.” And the more I think about it, the more I hate myself for feeling this way.

The closest I’ve come to letting my true self show is on my sailing trips. I’m different on the ship; more free and also more vulnerable. More than once, Skipper has asked us: “Why is it that life back at home seems so ‘watered-down’ compared to life here on the boat?” I have asked myself this over and over again, and I still have no answer. Maybe because there is, or seems to be, so much last judgment there than “in the real world.”

I wonder why I don’t even have the courage to say “I love you” to my parents.

Maybe one day I’ll find someone to whom I can tell everything. But right now, I can’t even imagine it, and this journal is as close as I can get.

PS. I’ll try it tonight. I’ll try to say “I love you” to my mom. I’ll let you know how it goes.


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