Never let anyone speak with your voice, not even someone you consider to be a true friend. Don’t let anyone think they know you so well that they can tell everyone what you would say or how you would feel. You could end up with someone else’s foot in your mouth, but it’s your reputation that will be on the line.
Lately I’ve been learning to reach out more, to let people, even friends, get to know me better. I didn’t know I was hiding, but to hear them tell it, I am some kind of mystery. Funny, I feel so exposed and obvious, but self-perceptions are tricky. It’s a little scary opening up. I’m coming out. I need to make an announcement to the whole world....”I’m a... Kim McLean.” That’s it. That’s all I got. Left handed, maybe gifted.
I am shy by nature. But I’m also strong. So I guess that must make me hard to read. I love people. People are fascinating, wonderful, flawed, and funny. I have this secret wish that I could help everyone never to have a broken heart. I may be arrogant in assuming everyone does, or will, and, really, I’m not so sure about that anymore. Some people are just happy. Some people are just mean. (Philosophical breaker just tripped). But I don’t mean to be presumptuous. I just want to play a song or write a piece or find the words that comfort. It’s my thing. Ironically, I’ve been called “aloof” which goes with “mysterious” I suppose. It’s because I watch. I listen. I pay attention as I peek out into the world from my safe cave - and all this gigantic stuff I feel for humanity seems lost in the dark introspection intended to love and heal.
Lately I’ve been learning something about the “Wounded Healer,” the one who wants to help others because she herself feels broken. That’s too much me, I know, but I wrote my own prophecy in a song once called “Unapologetic.” It says, “I am not broken like before, I will apologize no more.” My tragic sensitivities seem to disconnect me when what I want is connection. So, alas, I am learning at last to use FaceBook for myself. It’s really been me talking this time around. Anyway...the true Healer gives from the overflow of her own wholeness. I knew that.
So I guess you could say I don’t know how to market myself very well. When you don’t speak up for yourself, others tell your story. This week, yet again, someone told me something about me that was not me at all. Things I’d never said, things I’ve never felt or done. Words had been put in my mouth. It’s my own fault, but I say that with compassion for myself. I just don't tend to speak up, but I'm learning. Never too late, right? I assume the best of others, so I assume it goes both ways. Watch me. Listen. You hear my story in the songs. The narrative I am creating may not be glamorous, but I do the best I can. I probably study too much. I pray alot, play alot, say the wrong thing alot, and don’t smile nearly enough. I devote my life to small causes, but I dream big. I am real, nothing fake, if you want to take a closer look. Not a marketable trait, but who cares. Just know that I love ya. That’s all I got.
I titled this photo: Are You Mad? wait...what?!