Truth or Dare: Factual Observations about a Fictional Girl
Hey there my lovely readers,
I hope this blog post finds you well and soaking up those first few days of Autumn with a cup of your chosen refreshing beverage and focusing on the things that make you happy.
As a fictional girl I use words, stories and description on a daily basis to some degree to shape the perception people have of me and equally this works in a chain whereby if someone views me a certain way then this will be passed on to someone else. And if we're honest even the non-literary lovers among us and the most self-confident people do this too.
So in that same vein I've recently I've been focusing on cultivating my honest side. This is not to say that I'm a liar, spin doctor, or in need of a good daily dose of vertiaserum. Rather that I feel in order to upgrade to the next level of Megan awesomeness I've got to embrace fact as well as fiction, aiming for some kind of balance of the two. Ideally I'd like to strip away some of the fictional me to embrace the honest-to-goodness me, in all her incarnations.
This is because my lovely readers being someone other than yourself is so exhausting - seriously. I like to think that over the past 5 years or so I've come to love (and let loose on the world) myself in my entirety. I mean all the conflicting wonderful minuscule and massive parts of my personality that combine to make up me, not just the ones that make sense. But there are still times when I struggle to be true to myself; I mute my opinions, retreat into the safe rather than the true, and dull my factual with a more acceptable fictional.
But I'm tired of living this way. What is the point of moulding yourself to what is acceptable or understandable? Who does this actually please? What degree of happiness does this bring and what on earth is gained from it? Pretty much nothing.
Therefore whilst this blog has always been a space for me to express myself, my views, my creativity, my likes and dislikes, and so on, it has again been privy to only the parts of myself which I have chosen to reveal to you my lovely readers. That is the beauty of writing/storytelling/social media etc as we can find it difficult to judge the factual core within the fictional coating, the verbal or photographical glitter that we emphasise our experiences with.
This has been brought home to me recently as I have been unable to resist telling the truth. And I have loved it. Those friendships and relationships within which you can be completely and utterly yourself, celebrating and acknowledging the core truths are the ones that I have found have lasted. They contain people with which I truly breathe around, remove filters and not worry about they think of me because I know their love for me is based on who I AM not part of who I am. You elite few are a wonderful bunch and I love you for your lack of judgement and abundance of acceptance.
Imagine if you felt this way about every single person in your life? Wouldn't that be the most relaxing ever? I think this transparency of self is something to be valued and aimed for, particularly for the happiness levels it brings.
Throughout my life I have felt particularly splintered, or divided in who I am, and this probably started during high school. Whilst being blessed with a wonderful diverse group of friends who were there for me to keep me smiling and have plenty of banter and craic with, there were very few of them that got to see 100% of Megan. I think that's because I felt like I operated at extremes which didn't make sense in my personality. I saw the innuendo opportunity in virtually anything and swore like I'd constantly stubbed my toe yet had a spiritual side too which had its own reverence. I was mature in how I viewed aspects of life but open a pack of bubbles and my attention was gone. I'd devour a fresh paperback yet also shout down the stadium with the best of them when taken to a football match. Loved a fruity cocktail however would happily down a pint of beer.
Essentially pick an opposite and I'd try my hardest to straddle both sides of the fence without falling over on to a clearly marked field of traits. I loved my unpindownability but didn't think others would so I'd bring out Sporty Megan when called for and put her away when Bookworm Megan served me better.
It's like I handed out each new person I drew into my sphere of existence a piece of my personality puzzle or maybe a couple if I we got on very well but they'd never get the complete picture, something was always held back and I played a part, a fictional character with one defining trait rather than a fully rounded protagonist at the centre of my life story.
This worked for a while, particularly when I my self-esteem was in its lower scathing depths and I lost sight of my worth, who I was and what I could be. It felt safer to keep parts of myself concealed, to keep myself from being exposed to ridicule or disappointment. Yet long term I felt like I was being pulled in too many directions by all the people who held my puzzle pieces.
Furthermore during my depression the nature of my illness felt like it lent itself to keeping secrets, to not let anyone see what a 'freak' I was, how I couldn't keep myself together and didn't want to be ME anymore. I lived a fiction and in doing so forgot my facts.
So during my recovery period I thought this just wasn't the effort anymore, if I wanted people to actually know me that had to include an accurate picture of my mental health, my flaws, and contradictions. And it has been so refreshing to not have to hide something which defines the core of my being and has altered the person I am today. I used the time to decide what parts of myself I wanted to keep, what knew things I wanted to strive for, and came to love myself even if I didn't always make sense. Self-compassion is a side product of honesty and one to be used often folks, as it can be hard to confront ourselves, to remember we aren't always the perfect person we'd have the world believe, but the benefits it brings far outweigh the difficulty level.
Today I can say to you that I know myself better than I have done for a long while, I know what makes me happy, I know I'm awesome, but also human, and imperfect. That's the person I want the world to see, the one who sometimes forgets what words mean even though she's an English Lit graduate, who is a proud nerd, a walking contradiction, a beautiful mess, and that is 100% me. No alterations or qualifications. The full puzzle.
I love fiction still and will continue observing through my blog but the fiction shall be confined to verbal descriptive embellishment rather than holding part of myself back because I can't be myself with only a few people then someone else with the rest of you all. That's hypocritical and I want to be honest.
And guess what I dare you to be honest too.
With others and with yourself.
Because if you can't love yourself how the hell you gonna love somebody else?
Much love as always,
I hope this blog post finds you well and soaking up those first few days of Autumn with a cup of your chosen refreshing beverage and focusing on the things that make you happy.
It's been a while since I've blogged and as usual the reasons behind this are a combination of busyness and finding the right topic. However the busyness of the past month has actually been a combination of nose-to-the-grindstone-time-consuming work stuff alongside completely-blissful-lose-yourself-in-the-moment-happiness that you just want to cram into every available conscious minute.
So after finding a slot in amongst this all to cosy up and turn my mental waves into a more concentrated form for you to peruse I've decided that today I want to reveal to you some of the fact behind the fiction.
When I started this blog - Observations of a Fictional Girl - around 2 years ago the name came to me because I felt like a girl who lived her life through books. They were, and are, what I love and use to escape as well as to understand the world around me. Therefore this title felt apt. I was a literature student who loved words and lived through them, my world was formed in the verbose way I could describe what I saw around me and how I felt about it.
However as time progressed I realised the duality of the blog's name. Not only has this blog functioned as an outlet for me to record the way I see the world but it has also been a place in which I have fictionalised myself.
So in that same vein I've recently I've been focusing on cultivating my honest side. This is not to say that I'm a liar, spin doctor, or in need of a good daily dose of vertiaserum. Rather that I feel in order to upgrade to the next level of Megan awesomeness I've got to embrace fact as well as fiction, aiming for some kind of balance of the two. Ideally I'd like to strip away some of the fictional me to embrace the honest-to-goodness me, in all her incarnations.
This is because my lovely readers being someone other than yourself is so exhausting - seriously. I like to think that over the past 5 years or so I've come to love (and let loose on the world) myself in my entirety. I mean all the conflicting wonderful minuscule and massive parts of my personality that combine to make up me, not just the ones that make sense. But there are still times when I struggle to be true to myself; I mute my opinions, retreat into the safe rather than the true, and dull my factual with a more acceptable fictional.
But I'm tired of living this way. What is the point of moulding yourself to what is acceptable or understandable? Who does this actually please? What degree of happiness does this bring and what on earth is gained from it? Pretty much nothing.
Therefore whilst this blog has always been a space for me to express myself, my views, my creativity, my likes and dislikes, and so on, it has again been privy to only the parts of myself which I have chosen to reveal to you my lovely readers. That is the beauty of writing/storytelling/social media etc as we can find it difficult to judge the factual core within the fictional coating, the verbal or photographical glitter that we emphasise our experiences with.
This has been brought home to me recently as I have been unable to resist telling the truth. And I have loved it. Those friendships and relationships within which you can be completely and utterly yourself, celebrating and acknowledging the core truths are the ones that I have found have lasted. They contain people with which I truly breathe around, remove filters and not worry about they think of me because I know their love for me is based on who I AM not part of who I am. You elite few are a wonderful bunch and I love you for your lack of judgement and abundance of acceptance.
Imagine if you felt this way about every single person in your life? Wouldn't that be the most relaxing ever? I think this transparency of self is something to be valued and aimed for, particularly for the happiness levels it brings.
Throughout my life I have felt particularly splintered, or divided in who I am, and this probably started during high school. Whilst being blessed with a wonderful diverse group of friends who were there for me to keep me smiling and have plenty of banter and craic with, there were very few of them that got to see 100% of Megan. I think that's because I felt like I operated at extremes which didn't make sense in my personality. I saw the innuendo opportunity in virtually anything and swore like I'd constantly stubbed my toe yet had a spiritual side too which had its own reverence. I was mature in how I viewed aspects of life but open a pack of bubbles and my attention was gone. I'd devour a fresh paperback yet also shout down the stadium with the best of them when taken to a football match. Loved a fruity cocktail however would happily down a pint of beer.
Essentially pick an opposite and I'd try my hardest to straddle both sides of the fence without falling over on to a clearly marked field of traits. I loved my unpindownability but didn't think others would so I'd bring out Sporty Megan when called for and put her away when Bookworm Megan served me better.
It's like I handed out each new person I drew into my sphere of existence a piece of my personality puzzle or maybe a couple if I we got on very well but they'd never get the complete picture, something was always held back and I played a part, a fictional character with one defining trait rather than a fully rounded protagonist at the centre of my life story.
This worked for a while, particularly when I my self-esteem was in its lower scathing depths and I lost sight of my worth, who I was and what I could be. It felt safer to keep parts of myself concealed, to keep myself from being exposed to ridicule or disappointment. Yet long term I felt like I was being pulled in too many directions by all the people who held my puzzle pieces.
Furthermore during my depression the nature of my illness felt like it lent itself to keeping secrets, to not let anyone see what a 'freak' I was, how I couldn't keep myself together and didn't want to be ME anymore. I lived a fiction and in doing so forgot my facts.
So during my recovery period I thought this just wasn't the effort anymore, if I wanted people to actually know me that had to include an accurate picture of my mental health, my flaws, and contradictions. And it has been so refreshing to not have to hide something which defines the core of my being and has altered the person I am today. I used the time to decide what parts of myself I wanted to keep, what knew things I wanted to strive for, and came to love myself even if I didn't always make sense. Self-compassion is a side product of honesty and one to be used often folks, as it can be hard to confront ourselves, to remember we aren't always the perfect person we'd have the world believe, but the benefits it brings far outweigh the difficulty level.
Today I can say to you that I know myself better than I have done for a long while, I know what makes me happy, I know I'm awesome, but also human, and imperfect. That's the person I want the world to see, the one who sometimes forgets what words mean even though she's an English Lit graduate, who is a proud nerd, a walking contradiction, a beautiful mess, and that is 100% me. No alterations or qualifications. The full puzzle.
I love fiction still and will continue observing through my blog but the fiction shall be confined to verbal descriptive embellishment rather than holding part of myself back because I can't be myself with only a few people then someone else with the rest of you all. That's hypocritical and I want to be honest.
And guess what I dare you to be honest too.
With others and with yourself.
Because if you can't love yourself how the hell you gonna love somebody else?
Much love as always,
M xxx
Song of the Post: Can I Get an Amen? - RuPaul
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