We are a society obsessed with reality TV. You don’t have to flip too many channels to find some reality program on. But those shows? They’re not real.
If you were to ask me if I have a problem “being real,” I would tell you no. But I would be lying. As much as I pride myself on being real on my blog and in person, I am often anything but. I like to self-edit, pick and choose those parts of me that are most likely to be accepted, most likely to be praised.
Sometimes I don’t even know how to be real anymore.
I stick the not-so-lovely bits in a dark place and hope they never come to light. I worry that if I finally muster the courage to be truly real, if I truly bare it all, then I will scare everyone away. So I keep those bits tucked away and wonder why I’m lonely.
Being real is scary. Being real is vulnerable. But being real can also be freeing, and who couldn’t use a little more freedom in their life?
I think of the lyrics, “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine” and think that I’ve been doing an awful lot of hiding under a bushel. It’s time to let the light in. It’s time to be real.