maybe it was the red wine.
i’m not altogether sure.
for some reason, that evening i noticed.

years ago, i used to look for reasons to give up on people.  that looks so brutal in black & white.  our underbellies aren’t always so fancy, are they?  it’s true though, the judgment i would wear like a uniform.  when i got together with people, my mind would do a mental catscan for differences in other women, those lovely half-a-species i was supposed to be befriending.  i knew i needed people, but not these people.  when i (inevitably) found a discrepancy between her & me:  she has a job!/i don’t, she likes women’s groups!/i hate them, she has disposable income!/i don’t:  i’d move on.  just like that.  straight forward & super mature.

i’m having a hard time believing this is what my innards want to say tonight.

&, understandably, i had a shallow friend pool.  i believe there are two kinds of people in the world:  those who build walls, & those who knock them down.  for a lot of years, i was the kind of girl who came to every party with bricks in her pocket.  i’d start setting my foundation as soon as you opened your mouth.  by the time the night was through, well.  i couldn’t see you over the ramparts.

obviously, behind a wall is a lonely space.

but for some reason, along the way, i bumped into certain people & realized, “hey!  you’re not so different than i am.”  & i’d set the brick down.

i hadn’t really noticed this shift, this beginning to drop bricks, until a nothing-in-particular monday night.  with a glass of red wine in my hand, i looked around at the women in my book club & thought, “huh.  we’re all kind of the same here.  kids, husbands, jobs, houses.  we all have the same junk.  we’re so much more the same than we are different.”  the pile of bricks were down at my feet, strewn across the lawn.

so i started to wonder about the brick building.  i mean, when did i decide i wasn’t so odd in my oddity?  that my differences weren’t so different?
i may be a homeschooling hippie mama of four gardening my front yard, but really, i have the same sort of skin as my friends who work actual jobs or send their kids to school or don’t like to grow things.  i think they’re all strange & a little confused, but not so different than me.  (winkety-wink.)

this is what i’ve come up with.  somewhere a while back, i began telling the truth about myself, & when i did, some interior catch released.  i unclenched.  i exhaled. i let you in.  & somehow when i could be okay with me, i was way more okay with you.  as if all those bricks i’d been heaving around weren’t to keep you out but to keep me in.

now i understand this is true:  the more we tell our truths to each other, the closer we can be.  the walls began to come down & we become people who take them down.  we set our bricks down & let ourselves be authentic.  vulnerable.  hella messy.

because none of us has life a hundred percent figured out.  the more i know the more i really actually don’t.  & that’s good news.  it lets me off the hook of being captain of the world.

i can relax & set my brick down.

8 thoughts on “unclench.

  1. Awesome read!!

    Shan Tonneson
    Western Agency, Inc.
    (701) 228-3535 (O)
    (701) 852-6272 (F)

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  2. Actual job!?! Really? I taught school for 30+ years and I assure you that parenting and home schooling are Actual jobs. Well done, they are the most valuable of jobs, protecting our youth and our future, congratulations on a job well done…even if it doesn’t come with a cash pay check.

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