transparency in a world of judgment

I've been thinking about how much I've changed over the years. I'm 47 now, so I've had a lot of time to change.

For much of my life, I felt like my vulnerability was my greatest asset. It was easy for me to share embarrassing stories, to tell people about my fears and failures. I could make light of things, and there was comfort in that.

Back in 2010, Instagram didn't exist yet. I was writing a blog about backpacking and tattooing through South America and around the world, talking about the rolled-up bills in my pockets and how they indicated the kind of night I'd had. I was talking to people I didn't know, not just friends back home. And in that there was a sense of connection. I could make people laugh, I could make folks feel like they weren't alone in their struggles with depression or embarrassment over their own mistakes. It helped me to laugh at myself too.

Then everything shifted.

After living for five years in Costa Rica, I moved back to the United States in August of 2020 and set myself up in Portland, Oregon. This was during COVID, which, if you remember, was kind of a big deal. We were all sitting at home, living more of our lives online than ever before. I've got a family now and have taken on a lot of responsibilities. We bought a house, we have our daughter, and it's on me to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.

With that, tensions started to boil up in new ways. People started getting called out publicly, sometimes deservedly and sometimes not. Cancel culture spread like ink on a paper towel. George Floyd's murder ripped apart our social fabric. I was in Costa Rica when that happened and was glued to the television. It looked like the United States was on fire.

Moving to Portland put me on edge. There were two billboards that were put facing one another, one was for Black Live Matter and the other was for Blue Lives Matter. I laughed when I saw them because it seemed like a great analogy for how things felt. People had been reduced to blanket statements and nothing more, there was no room for nuance, or conflicting thoughts, no room to hold two ideas at the same time. It was this or that, fuck a conversation.

I began to become more scared of my voice. I was nervous to joke around. I was unsure of what was acceptable and what wasn't. I did not enjoy that feeling. It made me sad to see everyone so divided and full of vitriol for their neighbors who had different beliefs than them. When Myranda, my lady, became pregnant with our daughter, I became even more self-conscious. The idea of someone coming after me, trying to cancel me, or damaging my reputation had me scared to be fluid in my conversations at the shop. Costa Rica had been so far removed from all of this that I didn't quite know how to live in such a hotspot of sensitivity and idealism.

But I know myself. I know my heart. I know I only ever want to put good things out there. I believe in and hope for the best in people. I hold no ill will toward anyone, whether they agree with me or not. People may irritate me, they may confuse the shit out of me, they may make me wonder how their minds work, but it's not in my nature to hate them. Even that idea seems like it would irritate a few idealists who are dead set on believing that those who don't agree with their worldview are evil and deserve to be hated.

But there's something lost in this filtered way of living. Honesty. Truthfulness. Curiosity. Humor. Faith and trust in my fellow humans. I don't want to live in fear, especially when I only want to put good into the world. I want to be able to joke freely, ask questions about things I don't understand. I want to explore and challenge people's certainty.

I'm learning, even after all these years, that some people will never be happy, and I can't please everyone. No one is asking me to anyway. Why not have faith that my heart, my nature, my desire to add good to the world would outweigh some negative comments or upset feelings? These are all imaginary voices at the moment anyway.

If someone has a problem, their problem isn't actually with me. It's with their view of the world and the filter through which they're interpreting words and events. Their paradigm says that things are black and white, that there is good and evil, that they are right and anyone who doesn't agree is a liberal snowflake, a Nazi, or a whatever the fuck.

I suppose this is me adding to the cacophony of voices that fill every waking second of this modern life. There's so much division, shit-talking, hatred, and spite out there. Why not throw my lot in with the positivity and see if I can't help make it a little bit brighter?