Blogging has become an exercise in withholding more than I tell.

Which more-or-less mirrors the reality of my day-to-day interactions with people as well.

My boundaries are flexible, inconsistent and unpredictable when it comes to the kinds of things I’m willing to share about myself, both publicly and personally. And they are always contingent upon my sense of emotional vulnerability at any given time.

I’ll talk about foot fungus, the girl who pooped in my car, my unwillingness to ‘use the restroom’ in public places (and you know what kind of ‘use’ I mean)–there’s little risk in sharing information like that. You might think I’m weird, sure, but so what.

What I won’t talk about is the dissolution of my relationship, the subsequent haranguing of the possessions and finances, the subjects and effort involved in my counseling sessions, the presence or absence of romantic entanglements, or the fact that sometimes I just cry for no reason.

I’ll talk about riding my bike, going to festivals, hanging with my family and cool stuff I’m learning at work.

I won’t talk about losing entire days to apathy. Sitting down on the couch to read or watch television and finding myself still sitting there five hours later with little or no desire to move.

I’ll tell you that I spent most of the day on Monday in a state of horrible pain during one of the worst migraines I’ve had in probably 7 years.

What I might not tell you is that I am unreasonably terrified of those headaches, and of the idea that the next one might actually be a stroke.

I might tell you that I try to get out and meet people and socialize; that I play trivia in a bar periodically with a group of nice folks (tonight I won three rounds and several free drinks), met someone socially off a message board and recently crashed a Pride party with my sister and brother-in-law.

What I won’t tell you is that my attempts in this area have largely failed to produce any kind of meaningful interaction–mostly because I’m not willing to actually put forth the effort, and I walk away with very little interest in really connecting with anyone.

I’ll gladly tell you the weird stuff, the funny stuff, and occasionally maybe even some interesting or insightful stuff. But I won’t tell you the stuff that might make me seem pathetic or depressed or weak or pitiable. Weird I can live with. That other stuff, not so much.

But the fact is, it’s all true. Every last bit of that is honest. I am enjoying myself, I am meeting people, I do like my job, I do get out and ride my bike, I love hanging with my family and talking on the phone with friends and I like being by myself.

I also get down and apathetic and lonely and tired for no good reason. I worry. A lot. I get anxious in social settings and frequently want to flee. I get angry. Mostly at myself but also with other people and sometimes just at the damn universe. And sometimes I fall apart a little. Usually by myself and certainly never on this blog.

Because all of that stuff might make you worry. Or it might make you think less of me. It might scare you or upset you. It might cause you to offer platitudes and unsolicited advice. Hell, it might even make you feel superior or happy or relieved that you’re not the only wacko out there. Who knows.

Weakness, fear, anxiety. These are human failings we all experience but as a rule experience privately and get over as quickly as possible. Other people’s problems, depression, weakness, these things bring me down. Why on earth would I want to inflict my own on someone else?

And yet, here we are. All of us human, fallible, suffering, living, loving, hurting, reacting. Most of us denying or refusing to share the very pains and vulnerabilities that make us human.

I am guilty of the sins of omission, denial and self preservation that we all commit. So why is it so hard for me to own them? Because owning my weaknesses, faults, fears and phobias means giving up power–giving away power to you–to people who might exploit, revel in or add to my weaknesses.

Never let ‘em see you sweat. Never let your guard down. Don’t give anyone a reason to think less of you. Don’t give in, don’t give up, don’t look back. Put on a brave face. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Soldier on, forge ahead, or as Michael used to say, Focus–and move on.

Sometimes, you have to do all of them. Sometimes you can’t do any of them. And sometimes, you just can’t be bothered worrying about it either way.

Didn’t see that coming. Did you?