Pieces Misplaced

Today marks an important event in the ever-so-evolving life of Megz. Today an incredibly personal and emotional piece of my art has been published for the whole world to witness and experience. THE WHOLE WORLD. Once the essay went live over on Stratejoy, I was almost compelled to vomit. I had not-quite-literally just shared a photograph of my naked, beating, gushing, vulnerable heart and soul with everyone from here to Timbuktu. My gag reflex is jerking in my throat just recalling the moment.

You see, I have this problem with letting myself be vulnerable. I hate it. I even despise the way the *word* vulnerable rolls off the tongue. To those closest to me, we’ve agreed to speak in code… calling it ‘the v-word’… as if its mere utterance is offensive and unspeakable.

For the longest time, I associated my own vulnerability with being weak.

“Don’t show that jerk how much they hurt you – they’ll think you’re a wimp!”

“Hurry and cover up those sore spots on your soul so others can’t prey upon them!”

“Vulnerable? PSH! I’m fucking superwoman.”

I thought that avoiding vulnerability was like a coat of arms, a suit of armor, a means of protecting myself against from ever having to revisit the dark, dreary, and extra damp days (weeks, months) I once experienced when a slew of awful crashed into my world all at once. Well, I thought wrong.

Refusing to let myself be vulnerable ended up poo pooing a lot of great shit. And while this blog post isn’t the time nor the place to get into all the toileted opportunities I managed to scare myself out of, I can say that once I realized that my chronic fear of the v-word wasn’t serving me or my life so well, I decided to make a change.

First step? Get vulnerable with my writing. I sat down with a pen in hand and tissues near by and wrote about one of the least-told, most-painful stories of my life that I could manage. And then…I submitted it to a fucking essay CONTEST – because let’s face it, I can’t do ANYTHING without adding the element of pressure and competition. And to top that? The contest winner is determined by how many people vote for your essay. Which means… I have to not only allow my naked-soul-on-the-page be *available* for the whole world, I have to freakin’ SHARE it with the whole world so they’ll vote for me. The things I do to myself in the name of enhancing my badassery. I swear. Is it possible to be masochist with a penchant for self-improvement?

Anyhow, I put myself out there, into the world, into the wild, with nothing more than my dignity and conviction to shelter me from what may come. And I’m here today to push myself one tiny step further, sharing the piece with you beautiful bloggies and blogettes, even though I haven’t brought myself to read the damn thing that I wrote like a month ago.

Click on the image below to hop over to Stratejoy. Scroll alllllllllll the way down to the bottom to find Finalist #20 (me!) Megan Atkinson and click the “read more of Megan’s story” link to read the piece or if you’re pressed for time, just click the hot pink “Click Here to Vote Now” link and just come back later to read my super juicy v-wordness.

PiecesMisplaced

P.S. Yes, I am fully aware of the humor behind my nickname for vulnerability. And yes, I totally realize that the naked talk makes it hilarious-er. You’re welcome.

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