POST 13: “ARE YOU COMFORTABLE SHARING ALL THAT?” 

When I started telling my story, I thought people might ask about the details. Or say, “Wow, same.” Instead, the thing I hear most is: “Are you comfortable sharing all that?”

And honestly? No. Not always.

Sometimes I hit “publish” and immediately want to crawl under a weighted blanket and hide for a week. Because let’s be real: sharing the messier parts of your life with strangers — and let’s not forget your ex, your cousin, and all the coworkers from jobs past who might be silently lurking, or not, which is somehow worse — isn’t exactly a comfort zone. It’s more like streaking across a public square.

But I don’t share because it’s comfortable. I share because silence didn’t save me.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m not trying to turn pain into performance art. I’m just trying to make meaning out of the mess. To turn the ghosts into guideposts. To reach someone who’s quietly drowning in something they haven’t even named yet.

Some days I feel strong about it. Like maybe my words matter?! Other days I reread what I posted and think, Congratulations, you just flashed the entire internet.

Both can be true. That’s the thing nobody tells you about vulnerability — it doesn’t get comfortable, you just get better at tolerating the exposure.

So no, I’m not always comfortable. But comfort was never the point.

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