Why is it so difficult for me to explain to the friends who know me best that I am a serious writer? I find it baffling, but I have also come to the realization that I have to take responsibility for the mistaken identity I must be projecting and thereby conning my best friends.
The above article is about learning to love yourself, and the fact that tomorrow is officially Love Day means it can’t hurt to post the link.
The article states that each of us carries a good deal of guilt about the parts of us that are the most gifted or special, and that guilt, which the psychologist emphasizes is universal and not dependent upon upbringing or childhood circumstances is responsible for why we disallow the vulnerability to share our true selves with others, and even with ourselves sometimes. Perhaps this helps explain the reactions of my friends when I tell them I have recently had some of my poetry published.
Friend #1 stopped sharing with me over coffee and gave the general impression that she thought I was writing about her. (She’s never come within a mile of my poetry and perhaps has never read a serious poem in her life). Then she proceeded to explain to me that anyone can get published on the Internet. Friend #2 asked me if I had penned a poem about the birth of my grandson. I almost replied No, I am not Sharon Olds ( I would become a confessional poet in a heartbeat if I could write like Sharon Olds), but then I realized this friend would have no idea who Sharon Olds is.
I have to give these friends a break. It is poetry we are talking about. I believe I am better at writing poetry than talking about it. My writing makes a better impression than I probably do. I don’t want to hide my true self and my gifts from those who matter the most to me anymore. Someday I hope that under “occupation” I can actually write “poet” and mean it without flinching or feeling the imposter.