catharine Today has been pretty dang rough, tbh. Pretty dang rough. In fact, not just today. It’s been rough for a while now. Some of that is my own fault. Some of it isn’t.
I’ve been thinking about what it means to know a person, and how difficult it is to do.
I’ve been thinking about things like body language and pheromones, and also the fact that despite these things, people can hide for their entire lifetimes.
It’s also possible for one’s mind to be extremely known, perhaps a bit far too known. *cough*
And to still not be known.
When I see someone upset, if I can remember to, I try to think of what value they believe in that they feel is at risk, because there must be one, or many. Most people can relate to that, I think.
I’ve had the experience a couple of times in my life where people thought things about me that weren’t true, but also wouldn’t ask me about it, and so I let go of my hope to be understood, knowing that if they care enough about it, they’ll find a way to ask. For example I recently said something about “color” that I think some people thought was about race, when it was about heart colors. And there was a title I wore for a while because I wanted to embrace something I’d been given, to humble myself.
The bottom line is that none of us really knows anything about anyone else. Finances are a good example of a very private thing that people make a lot of assumptions about. I write about wearing cashmere because it’s something I’m not allergic to, from a company that can answer questions about its products, which isn’t true for most companies. It isn’t a flex. Admittedly tone deaf perhaps but that was a post to try to give people in my life information about something difficult to talk about. There are many people I know who I’d love to be able to visit with, and now I have a post to direct them to. Anyway. I don’t share information like the fact that my family has been below the poverty level for years and qualifies for government programs, the fact that my car has manual roll up windows, fridge has no icemaker, or the fact that I have not purchased a ticket to a show, eaten at a restaurant, or ordered in food since 2020, because it isn’t anyone’s business. I am losing my home due to the divorce, and am starting over completely by myself, in an unaffordable area where having neighbors is dangerous for me, where I have been out of the workforce for almost a decade as I’ve been a homemaker, and am now disabled, but not collecting disability.
I’ve found myself under a lot of pressure, and I’m not a content creator any more than anyone on social media is. Though I started my blog to attempt to make a difference, it’s now just a place that I write, and I prefer it to most social media. I don’t make money from it. It’s an expensive hobby. It gives me a place where I know if I write, it’s mine, and I’m not shoving it in anyone’s face. I’m not competing for attention. I’m not forcing it on anyone. It’s a comfort to me to feel that way about what I create, as much as is possible, which is admittedly semi-impossible when social media has become the vehicle for most online interactions. I love knowing that I’m not supporting the owners of any social media company, when I write here. Of course I go other places too but, you know? That’s why I prefer writing on my blog. And that’s why I keep wanting other people to write on blogs, so that I can follow it and comment etc. Because I think that’s fun.
I dream of a world where all people are treated like people and I’d like that to start with the way I treat others and would also ask that it include the way other people treat me.
