“Do I still want to share this much of myself?”
The question crosses my mind as I wash dirt and dust out of my hair. The water takes on a dark shade of brown, before it eventually escapes down the drain. Kind of gross, but the dirt just needs to come out. Two hours ago I was dead center of a mosh pit at a concert. Just like you ain’t supposed to, as a model blogger. In a different phase of life I would have probably taken tons of pictures, written a blog post about the show, and tried to share the evening with you.
That was then.
Back when I shared every aspect of my life, without thinking twice whether I’d be criticized for my texts or photos, whether I may drive away clients or readers. I just didn’t care. I shared my thoughts with you, dark as they often were, made my sadness accessible to you, my hope and my joy. I was 100% authentic, because I was 100% fearless. Fear is an emotion that we tend to feel more of the older we get. Back in the day I jumped on a skateboard to speed down the steepest slope, climbed trees without a moment of hesitation, had my friend do me a piercing with an injection needle from the pharmacy, balanced my whole along tiny edges. These days, I can’t shake the thoughts of consequences. I can’t help but think about what would happen if I tripped, lost my balance, hurt myself.
What are the consequences of my actions?
This question is a useful tool to make decisions in my daily life, but this very tool often also feels like a heavy burden on my shoulders, and usually in moments when I feel ready to take off. There’s always an angel on the left or a devil on the right, whispering in my ear:
and what happens then?
The same applies to my sharing habits. As you know, I write about my doubts quite frequently. I question myself in my texts, my role, my thoughts, everything. It’s basically my biggest talent: questioning things.
But when it’s time to really open up, to really share what weighs on my mind, what I struggle with in my private life – I find myself opting for silence more and more often.
Am I really better than the collective Instagram bubble?
“Do I still want to share this much of myself?”
Ich zeige euch meine schu00f6nen Erinnerungen von meinem Urlaub auf Zypern, aber nicht die Maden, die ich anschlieu00dfend in der Ku00fcche hatte, als ich zuru00fcckkam, und die sich in der halben Wohnung, auch unter den Teppichen, verteilt haben. rnrnIch zeige euch mein neustes OOTD und Sachen, die ich zugeschickt bekommen habe, aber nicht den Brief vom Finanzamt, der mir vor Kurzem ins Haus flatterte und eine Anzeige wegen Steuerhinterziehung in sechs Fu00e4llen(!) enthielt. Es stellte sich zwar eine Woche spu00e4ter als Missverstu00e4ndnis heraus und wurde wieder zuru00fcckgezogen, aber in dieser Woche habe ich kaum geschlafen und alle meine Gedanken drehten sich nur noch um diese Sache und all der Konsequenzen, die folgen konnten, insbesondere, weil ich mir keiner Schuld bewusst war – aber man weiss ja nie. rnrnIch zeige euch meine glu00fcckliche Beziehung zu meinem Partner, mit dem ich das Gefu00fchl habe, meine zweite Hu00e4lfte gefunden zu haben, nicht aber das Gefu00fchl, das mich belastet, weil ich so gerne ein Kind mit ihm hu00e4tte – mich aber gedulden muss. Erst Recht nicht den komischen Mix aus Neid und Freude, das mich u00fcberkommt, wenn eine Freundin sagt, dass sie schwanger ist.
Sometimes I long for the bygone days of fearlessness, the days when I shared everything without blinking an eye. When I didn’t think about the reactions I may have triggered, and instead just followed my heart. When I felt a deep trust that people would let me off the hook anyways, and welcome me back with open arms. In most cases this is in fact what happened, but the wounds I did sustain, inflicted by people who I had opened up to, who I showed all of my vulnerable self to, made me cautious, more calculating. And I don’t even want to be cautious, calculating, fearful. I want to share everything, I want to find refuge and shelter in the community. I want to be an open book.
Fuck the consequences.
What do you show? And what not?
