"I don’t want to hide my grief or my joy"

Keith and I shared many classes in university, and I've been so happy and grateful to see him writing prolifically over the past year.

We walked different paths after school, but it's amazing how many of the ideas, insights, doubts, and creative struggles Keith shares in his newsletter are ones I grapple with as well. I guess there's a reason we got along.

This recent post is a great example of why I'm glad to be a subscriber. This is blogging straight from the heart, and I'm here for it.

Here's what I highlighted:

As I get older, I realize so many of my experiences with people feel surface level. That the things I talk about and share barely scratch the surface of what I’m really thinking and feeling. Of course, these kinds of conversations can’t happen with everyone, but I’d like to get better at being open with the people who are important to me. And what’s the harm in sharing even with those I might never see again? I’d like to know that I shared the things I needed to share, even if it comes with a momentary sense of embarrassment, even if it’s a little messy and the words don’t come out just right. I’d like to know, when there isn’t much time left, that I had the conversations I needed to have. I want to know I shared and that I was there for the people who needed to share, too.

I worry what people will think when they see me at my lowest or at my saddest. But I think nothing ill of the people who I’ve seen in the same position. In fact, it endears me to them. It makes me love them more. Because they’ve let me see them as they are. They’ve trusted me with their fragility.

I don’t want to hide my grief, or my joy, my fears or my doubts. I’d like to share it all, as it is and as I am in the moment. I’d like to have the bravery to expose my sensitivity, to be okay with crying, to toss aside the fear of embarrassment or of sounding stupid. I’d like to free my shame and thank it for trying to protect me, to let it know it’s done its job but that I’ve grown beyond its purpose. And I hope I can be there for the people who are trying or would like to try much of the same. How little time we get to spend here. And how terrible it would be to know we never lived and loved once we’ve realized there isn’t much living left.