One of my best, and maybe worst, qualities is my earnestness. I feel things deeply. Current events affect me. That’s why I write about them so often. Much like my eight year old, I have big feelings. But, the question is whether I’m too old to be this earnest? Does earnestness drain like a gas tank, as your age-related perspective increases? Am I supposed to be more jaded, feeling more ennui, or even just not showing my feelings because it’s embarrassing (whether it’s supposed to be embarrassing for me or it just embarrasses others might be a worthy discussion as well.)
I’ve kind of always been this way. I’m friendly and loyal. I’m not flaky. I go all in on friendships and I’ve definitely been burned by people I’ve thought were friends that turned out not to be… at all. With age, my ability to discern the good from the bad has increased demonstrably and I choose not to spend time with those who are clearly being nice out of obligation rather than choice. And, past experiences haven’t snuffed out my earnestness. For better or for worse, they’ve probably increased it. I make sure the people in my life know how much I care. I say I love you, even to friends. Hearing those words can me a lot to people, especially when they know you mean them.
I write about current events a lot. I write about my struggles with ADHD. My writing can make me feel vulnerable. I guess that’s the point, right? I write so others don’t feel alone in their struggles. I write to get out frustration, to question authority, to question the wisdom of the ages or whether certain traditions are worthy of continuing. I’ve written about the death of George Floyd and Black Lives Matter, about the frustration of living with ADHD, about grief, about school shootings and why we insist on living with lockdown drills instead of doing something about the damn guns, about women’s reproductive health and rights, and about so many other topics. All of them come from a place deep inside me. If you’re interested in reading any of them, they’re all available on my website. Even writing this paragraph made me tear up. I’ve written about so many difficult topics and all of them include personal thoughts and experiences. They are earnest and thoughtful and well-researched. They are also well written.
I’ve written even though I know they don’t get a lot of views. I wish they got more, but that’s not why I write them. I write because if I’ve gotten even one person to think more deeply about a topic or to feel more connected to the world around them or to realize that vulnerability is a strength not a weakness, then I’ve made a difference. I did have a friend reach out after reading my essay about George Floyd. He told me he’d never considered the perspective I’d offered, despite having many Black friends and co-workers and he appreciated what I’d written. I’ve had others applaud my bravery in writing about mental health topics, though I don’t consider it brave in the least.
But, isn’t that the point of this life? To be of service in some way, to give of yourself to others? I am in no way perfect. I screw up often and with great gusto. My mistakes are often of a “go big or go home” variety. But, I apologize and keeping trying.
Maybe 44 is too old to be earnest. Maybe I should be protecting pieces of myself, projecting an aura of unwavering strength. I won’t though (it might be a need rather than a want.) I’ll keep writing my earnest thoughts about important topics. I’ll keep sharing my big feelings. I’ll keep being myself, even when it sometimes feels vulnerable and uncomfortable.
Love and strength to you all!
katyferrywrites.com 