there's a waterdeep song i love that goes something like this:
"i don't think i've ever wanted as much to be free as i've longed to be known..."
I’ve always wanted to feel like someone knew me. I mean, really knew me. Someone who knew what I was thinking before I uttered a word. Someone who could look me in the eye and communicate with me before even hearing what I had to say.
Being known does start out lovely. Like how Rylee can tell when my mind begins to wander; she can tell when I’m thinking about something more significant that dinner. Sure, she knows how I want my hamburger – with mayo and ketchup, no onions. She knows that my heart bulges when I see an elderly couple in the store, or when I see something that makes me miss my grandma.
As much as I’ve longed to be known, I’m finding that being known can be it irritating. {At least it can be to my Type-A-perfectionist-yet-childish Aries soul.} It includes someone knowing not only your sweet thoughts and dreams but also your flaws. And I feel like the worst parts of me are flowing out in abundance now. It can become maddening {if you let it}
I have a number of people like this in my life now, people who just know me. And I begin to wonder if they know me because they’re in my life for a reason or because I’ve just been so transparent that they got a good look at me. I know, the answer is obvious. In my “everything happens for a reason” mind, I know they’re meant to be in my life.
There’s Rylee, who calls me out when I’m being pessimistic or irrational. When my temper is escalating to tantrum-status she smiles sweetly and shuts me down. She gives me that “look” when I say something that I’m trying to make myself believe, but we both know is a sham. She sees me when I’m frustrated, irritated and whiney. She sees me when I’m broken and reminds me that there’s no reason to break.
There’s Rashel, who has known me since we were 12. I put on my show for her for years and she just watched and smiled. But she always knew what was behind my extravagant scenes. She worked the lights, changed the backdrops and helped me put on the show I wanted. But as soon as I shut it down she was there to help me sweep the floors and close the doors. I can always see her thoughts in her eyes and she spares me no honesty.
There’s Jerre, my new-found friend and pod twin. Our coinciding birthdays was a novelty and I was interested in our similarities. Then I realized those similarities lead to Jerre calling my bluff…a lot. Our conversations are littered with scowls and dares, and I’m usually left brooding over the fact that regardless of endeavors my insecurity has been branded. With a laugh Jerre can predict my reaction, and in the process nearly nullify its execution.
There’s Cat, who always makes me question my motives and reminds me that not all is fleeting. There’s JD, who stimulates my introspection but always stops me with his question “what’s really the problem here?” To which my answer is usually “Nothing. It’s in my head.”
There’s Rashel, who has known me since we were 12. I put on my show for her for years and she just watched and smiled. But she always knew what was behind my extravagant scenes. She worked the lights, changed the backdrops and helped me put on the show I wanted. But as soon as I shut it down she was there to help me sweep the floors and close the doors. I can always see her thoughts in her eyes and she spares me no honesty.
There’s Jerre, my new-found friend and pod twin. Our coinciding birthdays was a novelty and I was interested in our similarities. Then I realized those similarities lead to Jerre calling my bluff…a lot. Our conversations are littered with scowls and dares, and I’m usually left brooding over the fact that regardless of endeavors my insecurity has been branded. With a laugh Jerre can predict my reaction, and in the process nearly nullify its execution.
There’s Cat, who always makes me question my motives and reminds me that not all is fleeting. There’s JD, who stimulates my introspection but always stops me with his question “what’s really the problem here?” To which my answer is usually “Nothing. It’s in my head.”
I get frustrated that I don’t get my way, and that I can’t say what I want to without it being rebuffed for fraud. I hate that I can’t make people believe what I want them to believe about me. I feel found out. I feel pin-pointed and categorized. I feel like I want to break out, run away and hide where no one knows me.
My easiest defenses are invalid, no longer working like I had hoped. The stubborn child in me pouts as my loved ones stick me in the wash tub and scrub at my dirt spots. I’m irritated that you can stop me in my tracks, but I know that I’m seen and cared for. I know I’m being challenged to grow.
My easiest defenses are invalid, no longer working like I had hoped. The stubborn child in me pouts as my loved ones stick me in the wash tub and scrub at my dirt spots. I’m irritated that you can stop me in my tracks, but I know that I’m seen and cared for. I know I’m being challenged to grow.
I’m completely known, and still loved.
