Something has dawned on me over the last few weeks – a realisation about what exactly I’m doing in this blog.
No doubt this penny should have dropped sooner and you guys have probably been aware of it for months but it’s only just occurred to me that:
I am conducting my therapy in public.
When I started this project I didn’t really know how it would pan out. I just had the idea: one book a month for a year. The desire to change my life was real but I was also a journalist too so I just figured I’d go out, do all these weird things and report back. I thought I’d find away to share what I wanted to share and gloss over the bits that were too embarrassing, too shameful, too personal.
Well, that’s been blown out of the water with the whole money business.
As the months have gone by I’ve found myself sharing more than I’d ever have expected to share – but more than talk of men or insecurities, talking about the ins and mostly outs of my financial situation has been the most personal thing of all. It’s been hard to face facts myself, let alone put all those facts out in public.
I worry that I’m going to regret this one day.
Am I turning into a car crash? Am I crossing all sorts of lines?
Colleagues are reading this, relatives are reading, old boyfriends… I’m typing down stuff that I would never tell people face to face.
But then my gut feeling has been to just keep doing what I’m doing. I’ve started this thing and I may as well go the whole hog. F**K It, what’s the worst that can happen?
What people think of me really doesn’t matter in the way it used to and while I might be a car crash, I’m not the only car crash out there.
In fact one of the gorgeous side effects of this blog is the conversations I’ve been having with people about their relationships, their fears, their money… Stuff that we would not normally talk about. And that’s just my bank manager.
Showing all my bad bits – the bits I normally hide – has made it easier for other people to do the same. It’s nice.
But it leads to some strange moments too. I don’t think mum or dad are reading (we’re operating on a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ basis on that front. I asked them not to read when I started and I don’t know if they’ve taken sneaky peaks since) but my whole extended family appears to be.
Last month I was back in Ireland visiting family when a distant relation came up to me in the pub. ‘I’ve been reading your blog,’ he told me – which was surprising given that he’s a fifty-odd year old farmer.
Me: ‘Oh, great.’
Him: ‘ALL of your blog…’ he said it like he knew a secret.
Him: ‘So whats going on with the fellas? Why can’t you get a boyfriend? A good looking girl like you…’
Now this was very kind in many ways – I’m flattered he thinks I’m good looking and that my blog is interesting enough to keep reading – but I felt like he’d seen me in my knickers. I don’t want to talk about my love life – or lack of – with a man I don’t really know. But what else do I expect? I’m the one who’s putting it out there.
The next day a cousin I hadn’t seen in years came around to my aunt’s house, where I was staying. His opening line? ‘So, naked yoga…’
I was in my dressing gown eating breakfast next to dad. Awkward.
It’s one thing to vent my insecurities on a laptop but it’s quite another when those insecurities become the topic of conversation at family gatherings. The funny thing is that if you meet me in person I’m actually quite private – all our family is – which makes what I’m doing all the stranger.
I wonder where it will all end… Will it get to the stage where I start sharing details of my sex life? Mind you, I’ll have to get one first. I’ll keep you posted on that one… right after I get them money stuff sorted.
Love to you all, have a nice weekend. xx
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