Closed all hours
I met up with my friend Ben Casnocha in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago for a long overdue reunion. As soon as we sat down, he started busting my chops. Typical.
Ben said his jaw hit the floor when he read my statement that I’m a very closed, private person. Later, Hillary Johnson joined us and, when she witnessed Ben giving me a hard time about this statement again (perhaps it was the instance in this sadly truncated video exchange), she clarified: “Jackie is very private, but about the strangest things.”
I mean, really: You have no idea what I’m not telling you, do you?
One of the hardest things on my agenda right now is opening up. Not trying to open up, but really doing it. (When my shrink suggests that I do something, I respond with, “I’ll try.” His reply: “If you only try, you’ll fail. Just do it.” This has proven to be more true than I would admit to him.)
For the longest time, I thought I could pretend to be open and still reap the benefits. The truth is, you can only fool some people (like Ben, many of them are extremely clever). Sure, being open about some things allows me the space to be closed about what really matters*. But people who are truly open can sense that I’m not, and so I’m limiting the possibilities for myself every time I swerve around an uneasy topic or scary question.
This has also led to lessons for me on who to trust and how much, appropriate sharing, and when discretion is not in order. Those lessons continue. I think they always will and, for many people, should.
There are deeper issues at work here than just not wanting to share, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to write about them at this point - not here, anyway. (See? Maybe I’m learning something.)
In the meantime, Twitter is my safe haven. Please don’t be offended if I turn down your request for access to my updates. I’m being careful about that right now. Not that I’m saying anything particularly scandalous. Sometimes I just need a warm, soft place to be (even more) banal and random.
*A very interesting question to ask oneself about “what matters”: Why does this matter? Why must I keep it to myself? Why must no one else know? The answers are always worth knowing.
Filed under: Life
Tristan always pulls me up on saying ‘I’ll try’ as well, damn him!
My take on this whole sharing/not sharing thing is that you’re perfectly entitled to keep private whatever you want to keep private. Only you can know whether you’re better off sharing something or keeping it to yourself. I don’t see any moral obligation to share everything, and I remain very private about all sorts of things. It’s sometimes to my detriment, but, for me, there’s an element of self-determination there that I really value.
I totally understand. I’ve grown from a very private person to a person who can share some, but not all, deep inner things. And when my “don’t share now” or “don’t share with him/her” vibes go off I still listen, because I’m cautious that way.
I think about this too. I’m generally quite well liked (especially when I respond to something stupid or mean in a very firm tone - that’s never appreciated by the person who has done the bad deed) but more and more I wonder if I am seen by others as a pleasant, indefatigable, team player who is also kind of a blank wall (who says hello and slaps you on the back as she walks by and keeps going). Wonder at times if this has been hastened by my choice of profession, where survival in a lot of law settings requires dealing with the crazy, enraged, negative, and weird without blinking an eye. Screaming partner, screaming client, crying client, crying secretary, partner off his meds and deranged - all require a strong, cheery, plastic facade and the ability to turn and walk back into your office and do another few hours of work as though nothing happened. This is not condusive to being “authentic” but you know what, “whatever….”
Your doc sounds great but I’m really cheap and in the Midwest, so I suppose I’ll keep on trying to tune myself up. Richard O’Connors’s books on overcoming depression and stress and anxiety are great, the trick is following up.
Yeah, my shrink is not cheap, but I consider it an investment in myself. I’ve already seen improvements that will make me a better wife and mother someday.