Allison here, ready to start off this blog for real. Not that I don’t love camel discussions with political undertones. But I’ve always wanted to run a blog and just be brutally honest. Let my brain fall onto the page; words, thoughts, emotions laid bare for the uninterested internet to ignore. But at least it would be out there. I have read blogs about difficult things, about others’ struggles in their lives, about people fighting for peace, for clarity, for something. I have always wanted to record my own fight. And, finally, here I am, running a blog.
But now I’m not sure if I know how to be honest. I want to tell my story but I don’t know what my own story is anymore. How can I be raw and real when even I don’t know so many layers of my own truth? How can I be sure what I’m writing is really me when I’ve spent so much of my life not being real? My personality is partial to openness- I’ll tell my story to a stranger. I suppose it’s how I cope. But each time I tell this story, it is different. It’s molded for its intended audience. I leave out unfavorable details and hack off memories better left unsaid. I use softer words for hard subjects. I cleave off entire parts of me when I craft my story, different parts for each person listening. My pastor didn’t hear the same story my brother did. The boy I liked didn’t get the same details my best friend listened to. I mold it into something somehow more flattering, something more acceptable.
But suddenly, I am audience-less; the internet is an unspecific, undemanding audience. So what is honesty, what is real? What details should be hidden if I have no specific reason for hiding something? My story remains before me, daunting and so very vexing. After all, what do I know of honesty if I have never been honest?