Mind the Gap

Have we all recovered from my blog post last week?! I am not about to shame a whole group of people about whether they reached out to me or not after reading my blog post but I am going to invite you to reflect on it with me.

That blog post was my most read blog post so far (I have only been doing this writing & sharing malarkey for a week). I could see that people were reading it and for that, I am grateful. My reason for writing blogs is to help me process some of life and to share it with you in case it helps you or makes you stop and think.

But it felt like I had put a piece of my heart on a plinth, on an easel and could see you walking past it, looking at it, scrutinising it and then moving on. But it was silent. I had no idea what you were saying about it nor how it made you feel.

And yet that is the point of an art gallery or a museum - the artist or creator never gets to know what people think. It sounds like a really distant way of engaging with people and yet it feels significantly personal with no connection.

I am still wrestling with that. I would rather talk to each of you individually, hear what you are feeling, know what you are thinking but I can’t. This is what I have right now and for right now, this is OK.

But it doesn’t feel OK. Because it is a piece of my heart on that easel and where the metaphor falls down is it isn’t just a solitary piece, it is still connected and it hurts. Silence is the gap and the silence causes me shame.

And so the gap will be there. For me, the gap is filled with shame - not of my own choosing but shame festers in there, uninvited and seemingly immovable. But I need to be mindful of the gap. What could I fill it with instead? I have choice and yet, shame paralyses me - makes me want to hide and quieten my voice. No more writing.

And yet, writing is my lifeline and it means that I can show up, when I haven’t been able to show up in spaces before. I have agency in how my voice is heard and how my heart is seen.

But I promised myself I would keep moving, so I draw on what I know keeps me alive - curiosity. I hold my thoughts of you lightly. I consider you as someone in that gallery who has showed up and looked. You have read my blog, you have seen the piece of my heart and I am still here. Still showing up, still writing… see it, say it, sorted… or at least still curious.

Jess