Anonymous

A friend of 27 years just pointed out that I tend to live covertly. She said she thinks we both do that because we are always waiting on something to backfire. She thought maybe we were afraid of creating unrealistic expectations that we can't consistently live up to. And what if, in the midst of trying to be supportive and encouraging, it isn't well received? What if we get so overwhelmed in own lives that we let someone down? Sure, maybe all that is true, but for me, there's more.

I know someone out there has been here. You work out, buy the dress, do your hair, and then have your partner completely ignore you at a high school reunion, or worse, accuse you of flirting with other men, when all you did was talk to whoever was around you as you sat alone. If you talk to no one, then you're stuck up. If you excel at something, you're an attention whore. If you dress nicely, you're trying to impress someone. If you stay in the background, you're dull and don't know how to have fun. Whenever I sing, he thinks the song is about him.. (that line sounds familiar).

I know how I got here. When I was a kid, it went like this.

I was excited about a high score for percussion aptitude when I was ten and dad said, "we can't pay for an expensive instrument when we're probably going to move again."

"You have all these A's, why is there a B?"

"You can't play on the basketball team, because you can't expect someone to drive you to all the practices and games."

"Don't volunteer to do anything that I have to pay for."

"You can come inside and pay attention to your sisters now, the neighbors are not impressed by you laying out in a swimsuit."

Everything I did was an inconvenience to my dad. All my accomplishments were quickly reframed as an annoyance or ploy for attention. I rarely wore dresses. I stayed in the background. Obviously, I was expected not to be seen or heard.

Once in a while a friend would read something I wrote and tell me I should write a blog or a book, or someone might hear me sing and be pleasantly surprised. My boss would compliment my work ethic and creativity. If anyone mentioned my appearance, intelligence, or cooking, it made my stomach twist and my heart race. Not in a good way. Every accomplishment made me wonder when it would be turned into an accusation. Friendly gestures and kindness toward me were often scrutinized for ulterior motives, so now they make me irrationally uncomfortable.

Your "Happy Birthday" message will be a text, not on social media. If I dash you some dinner or write a note of encouragement, no one else needs to know. I will always be in your corner, and you can trust that I have already considered the risk and decided you are worth the interrogation that may come from this choice.

So, I'll probably never write under my real name. My picture is most certainly filtered. Twice. I don't have the energy to defend my thoughts or stories. I can already imagine the accusations of secret desires and hidden messages, and I assure you, I don't have time for any of that. I have been conditioned for most of life to look for the potentional fallout of every trivial thing that I do. I'm happy to let the fictional, more confident me own all the attempts, trials, successes, and failures, and let me rest easy in the background where I am content to stay. I'll take any small wins in private, thank you, where they can't be distorted or devalued. I like who I am, and this is how I will protect her. Whoever she is. It's only a name.