Only a handful of people know who I am.
They know my fears, my sources of joy and happiness, the roots of my sadness, where my heart and spirit reside. It is a very intimate thing to give to someone: allowing them to know who you are or how you’ll react to a certain stimuli or experience. I don’t hand out lightly the ability to see all that is Julianna Doll.
I recently had dinner with a woman who is very influential to me. She is profoundly loving and isn’t afraid to show that: she is very outright about who she is. You can see it when you look at her and feel it when you talk to her. I tell her that I wish I could be that forward with who I am.
I feel as if my persona is segmented: some people see this part of me, while others see something else. Consistency is not something I am familiar with. I know instantly in a situation what side of myself I’ll show, but it goes beyond shyness amidst unfamiliarity. I definitely take awhile to acclimate to new situations.
I recently started a new job where I’m told I’m “too serious” and “don’t talk much” and “need to smile more.”
That’s how it usually goes for me.
“I’ll get there,” I tell them, “It takes me a little bit. But I’ll get there.”
When I started at my first job, I don’t think I talked for three or four months. I showed up, did my job, asked questions and left. I’m not sure when the switch happened. I realized one day that I was comfortable with my coworkers, that I had a voice, and that I could show who I am.
I laugh as I type this, as I might show too much of myself now. But it’s nice to be able to do that.
But still, there are people who don’t know me like they should. They don't know how music is a huge part of my heart. They don’t know I believe in reincarnation and don’t believe in Hell. They don’t know what makes my spirit soar or what gets my mind excited. Some people, when they discover these things, are shocked.
“How didn’t I know you were _____?”
What can I do? Wear a sign on my forehead?
Our lives are made up of big and small moments, some which we share and others we keep to ourselves. I like the ones I keep to myself as my mind and body talk to each other:
“This makes me so happy. I’m so happy to be here right now.”
“I need to do this more often!”
“Yep. I’m definitely about to cry.”
“Have I ever been this sad before?”
“Why do I never take the opportunity to let people see who I am?”
“Why don’t I play music more?”
“That’s a weird thought.”
“Yikes.”
These little thoughts, for me, really help to get to know myself. I feel I know myself so well, and maybe about 30 percent of that I show to others. It makes me feel as if I am cheating myself out of a more fulfilling, abundant life.
There have been too many missed opportunities because I was afraid of reaching out or scaring someone away. Maybe I had too much pride. Maybe it was too much work.
When I finally do open up, this is what I always hear:
“Why didn’t you talk earlier? Why didn’t we do this earlier?”
That’s all on me, and I’m sorry about that. It’s something I wish I could change. But because I’m not naturally outgoing, it takes some time. I think there’s a preciousness of letting someone slowly get inside your mind. Maybe it’s for the best I don’t let it out quickly like a popped balloon. Then again, maybe I could gain something from loosening up a bit.
But hey, we’re all just practicing, right?
