So I went English Country Dancing with Jenny last night. It was a blast. I really love doing things with her, especially classy things, like dances from Jane Austen Novels. It was a great evening. Until it wasn’t.
When we were done dancing, one of the other gentlemen asked me about my scar. Now, as you can see in the picture below, this is a honking big scar. It is, of course, the scar from my self inflicted cut before my last hospital visit. It is bright, it is bold, and I knew someone was going to ask about it eventually.
I did not expect my reaction, however. I froze. I looked at Jenny, with a decidedly deer-in-the-headlights look, wondering what I should say. I said to him “Let’s just call it an accident.” I also never would have guessed his reaction. He insinuated that he thought Jenny did it for sexual reasons, which she immediately made clear was not the case. I think I left him pretty confused. Hell, I’m still confused.
I began to panic, and it occurred to me that, although I am happy to share my mental health issues with most people, obviously, I was not willing to go there with this man. I think I was afraid. It just doesn’t seem fair that I didn’t feel like I could be myself. But I could have been, and I should have been. I have made up my mind to always be honest about why I have that scar, and have encouraged Jenny to be open about it as well.
I plan on pulling that man aside sometime soon, and explaining where it came from, and why I was hesitant to talk about it. I’d like you all to remember something. Just because I am so open and honest for all of you, all that doesn’t mean shit unless I can be honest with myself, and those in my everyday life.
Remember that I’m not perfect, and I don’t have to be. By extension, you don’t have to be perfect either. Keep it honest, but also keep it positive. Carry on.