I surround myself with people who feel deeply but who struggle to appropriately express their emotions.
My life is filled with artists. They write and sing and paint and create things in many forms. They channel their feelings through themselves into media to be shared with others and they feel as though they have let others in.
I understand that feeling. I flay myself open with each piece I write, baring my soul to all, exposed and vulnerable, only to be disappointed that my readers have failed to see the truth in the viscera I have spread in front of them.
So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the artists in my life feel the same. They think they’ve handed me the keys to their souls, to their hearts, to the inner workings of their minds, but all I see is their part in my own story.
Or worse, I see nothing. I see chaos and confusion, but I can find no understandable pattern of behavior within the bits of themselves that they have laid bare. Instead of communication and understanding, our artistic sharing leads to further hurt feelings and failed connections.
This isn’t what I expected to write today. I’m not sure what it means in terms of myself or my decisions, but it feels important. I’m going to explore this idea more. I notice that I’ve written it from the perspective of someone who fails to understand those around her and who fails to be understood. This is a reoccurring theme in my life lately.
I can be aware of how I express myself, but I cannot control how my expressions are received by others. I can be aware of how I am receiving the expressions of others, but I cannot control how they express themselves. These are key. These are my challenge.