On New Year’s Eve, I deactivated my socials. I even deleted the apps off my phone.
It is tempting to think (and for me to say) that it was some new year’s resolution social media fast.
My last tweet thread resulted in a serious vulnerability hangover, as Brené Brown calls it.
I was also gripped by an overwhelming sense of fear. Fear that I was coming close to a line I couldn’t uncross.
I had tweeted a few threads that revealed more about the trauma I had walked though in my marriage and was still walking through, more than I had ever before.
I had walked right up to the line and stepped on it.
Last night a friend asked me what line was I talking about? That was a tough one.
I’ve struggled privately and publicly with what to speak and when to speak. The truth — always. But balancing that with grace and love. And a desire for the repentance of those who have committed harm. But also with the reality that in many cases, silence is actually unhealthy and harmful.
For example, for many years, I knew that certain topics were “family matters.” It was never explicit. We just knew that we didn’t talk about certain things. Privately or publicly. Anything that showed a crack in the armor. Anything that revealed “private things.”
I’m working hard to undo that wrong thinking, but it’s hard.
So when I tiptoe near that line, I feel fear. And confusion. And powerlessness. And it’s like I touch my toe over that line to see if the monster will come crashing into view, then I run back into the safety of the bushes.
Another part of my retreat was a sense of shame. It’s taken me awhile to realize that. That last tweet thread ended with a rhetorical question: “Where was my freaking dignity?” To stay in such a destructive and deceitful relationship for 25…