Hide and Seek
From what are we hiding and what do we seek? I wonder if anyone asks themselves that question before they settle down in front of their computers. I know I do.
We walk a tightrope every day between what we want to show the world, and what we want to hide from it. Social media has become our world stage, and we are merely players, acting out the roles we have chosen for our public personas. I am no exception to this, so don't think I stand in judgement. The difference here lies in this: How close is your public persona to your real, authentic self? How close should it be?
When I get on Facebook, I am consistently stunned at how many divorces I learn about through that glaringly public medium. I go through the couples' profiles and look--I feel compelled to. Sure enough, what precedes the unhappy declaration is "forever in love" memes, pictures of kids and family, the couple themselves, together, smiling, celebrating their (pick a number) year anniversary with wine and smiles. No wonder we are stunned to learn of the breakup.
But wait--am I saying they should "tell it like it really is" on social media? Uh, no. Make that a hell, no, please. But why all the "happy couple" pictures? Why all of the declarations of devotion when that isn't the day-to-day reality? It's one thing to hide what goes on behind closed doors, it's quite another to intentionally mislead your audience--and yes, if you're on Facebook, you have an audience--into thinking all is rosy and well.
Or is it that we are so unaware ourselves, that we post these things as a way to delude our own perceptions of what's really going on in our world?
I know of a woman who struck up a friendship with a man in her same line of work. She is married, but met this younger man, also married, and they decided to collaborate on a project together. She gushed about him personally as well as their shared efforts on her blog, on social media, for the world to see. Even though she presented it as a professional relationship online, behind closed doors they were having an affair. I happened to learn that fact from a mutual friend, so the gushing was sort of telling. But anyone else reading probably wouldn't have caught it. It just hinted, rather than being blatant. However, had she publicly announced the affair, I doubt anyone would have blinked an eye. It's almost as if she couldn't stand people not knowing.
So this is another type of person--this person won't blindside you with a shocking revelation, they will give you hints into their real world. When they announce a divorce, for example, you can scroll back through their timeline and there are no "happy couple" photos to mislead you. There are quotes that read ambiguously at best, and outright obvious at worst. You know something's going on in their world, but they have the restraint and decorum to not say it outright: "I'm unhappy in my marriage and by the way, I'm sleeping with a co-worker." These folks walk the tightrope well.
Then there is the other extreme. My least favorite. You've got hemorrhoids? Share it on Facebook! Colonoscopy photo? Throw it on up! A friendship gone south? Write status updates like, "When you need to borrow someone's chocolate fountain for a party and they won't let you? You learn real quick who your true friends are." An ugly spat with your spouse? Divide and conquer on Facebook, complete with blame, ugly details and drama. Make sure you toss in feminist quotes about not needing men(her page), or misogynist quotes for good measure (his page).
Sadly, I was guilty of this self-indulgent behavior on my blog (not Facebook, thank God) back in 2006 during my divorce. Mostly I rattled on about disillusionment, heartbreak and my impossible situation. Basically, I whined. To be fair, though, I really had thought I had only three readers: my sister, sister-in-law and a friend. Little did I know there were many more eyes--friendly and unfriendly--reading about my personal dirty laundry online. Maybe that's why I'm so adverse to it, having committed the sin of TMI and vomiting it up for the world to see.
So who are you online? Do you fit into one of the three categories above? Do you fade in and out of them according to your mood? How do you walk the tightrope?
There are many facets to my self, my life, my work. However, I don't feel the need to share all of these facets publically. Now, the things I do share I try to make consistent, professional, informative and, at the very least, entertaining.
Paradoxically, I don't hide any part of my life in my art. I may present an even-keeled public persona here, or on social media, but in my art? I open my proverbial coat.
So what's the difference? Good question.
For me, it's all about the milieu of where I want to play hide and seek. When I write in a blog or on a Facebook feed, what I present is sort of "inflicted" on whomever happens to stumble across it. But if you want to know me, truly know me, you have to seek me out. It takes a bit of effort; an investment, if you will, and not just a financial one, but an emotional and spiritual one.
On this very site you can read poetry that exposes my deepest fears and insecurities or some unpleasant past experiences. You can read parts of my novels that have my guts smeared all over them (not in an autobiographical way, in a "writing-a-novel-is-like-opening-a-vein" way.) But, as a reader, you have to invest in it, take your time to read it, feel it, and allow us--you and me--to connect. That's the investment that I'm talking about. But you have to be a willing participant. You have to say "I'm willing to go into the dark with her, open up my insides with her." As a writer, this is the crux of everything: am I good enough that you, the reader, are willing to make an investment in my work?
That's the difference. If you only want my public persona, you may read my post here, read my occasional Facebook updates, and that will be that. But if you want all of me? You have that option as well. You'll have to dig, and it's all up to you.
Just remember, once you seek me out, once you've committed to me, you might not want to come back out--because there's nothing quite so compelling as peeking into a forbidden, closed-off room when the door's been left, ever-so-slightly, ajar.
