True Story

True Story Tuesday

3ae2fc8f0e39ff685d9bc3310c631d84

Advertisements
Keep Moving Forward, True Story

Keep Moving Forward

I can safely assume that most of my readers are at least partial introverts. Hell, I’M an introvert and that’s why my voice comes out so strong in writing. I don’t spend all day using my words out loud. I hoard them in my heart and spill them like a bucket of water onto the page. My eyes on the other hand speak for me all day long. I’ve been told time and time again that I can make people feel guilty with just a look, I can tell someone they are upsetting me with a glance, and that what I think they said was really funny from a slight crinkle in the corner.

I’ve been told that I’m very expressive, it’s subtle, but it’s there if you look.

I can also safely assume (because I’ve lived my whole life as some version of myself) that most people aren’t actually looking. They miss it. They miss the crinkles and the eye rolls and the slight shift in the eyebrow.

We all get a little too into our own worries and business that we miss the subtle things. My introvert friends can read me far better than my extroverts, but don’t we love to watch the extroverts play? They have courage that we don’t. (For the most part.) I get anxiety about calling people on the phone, even if it’s just to order food from a place I’ve called a thousand times before. I get anxiety about meeting up with my own best friend because I’m scared that I’ll react to something they’ve said in the wrong way. (God forbid I accidentally be real with them even though they’ve loved me since I was a kid and that’s exactly WHY they love me. My unfiltered face.) I hate going to Walmart and places in my hometown because I’m likely to run into someone I know. I’m scared to speak sometimes. It fills me with complete dread and vomit-inducing terror to speak in front of a crowd.

Okay, so I’ve never actually barfed from that, my stomach is stronger than I am. But that doesn’t mean that the terror isn’t real. The only solution I’ve found for it isn’t to pretend that everyone else in the room is naked. (That makes it worse.) I pretend I’m speaking to a room of dead bodies.

Yes, you read that right. I picture the audience all slumped in their seats, dead eyes, mouths hanging open, dead.

This post went really dark. Haha.

What I’m actually trying to say is that sometimes people get bowled over by their own anxieties and it takes a different kind of courage for them to say something. To express their emotions or thoughts out loud. Sometimes we get stomped on for it, sometimes we are ignored, and sometimes we get a lovely reaction back and all that worry was for nothing.

But it DOES take us courage. Because the words we are saying are more important than our own anxieties. They could be nonsense words about the weather, but sometimes it takes everything we have to just talk.

Which brings me to this:

1bf2eb6e5bff6acf0adea58affe5cc87

Keep moving forward little birds.