“There is something really off about this whole concept of privacy” I mused. I dug and pondered, for there was something to dig for. Oh yes, we all know that certain things “just are” private and that we “just have” the right to keep them so but … just why? Just why, I wondered.
“It is, in part, to keep people out” I concluded. Not sharing myself, not showing myself to others so that I don’t have to deal with their response, their opinion, their reaction. Privacy is to keep myself safe and comfortable. But that is not a “right” – that is a trauma. Just trauma. And I don’t want that.
O yes, I have an abundance of this particular trauma, I roll into a tiny ball and pretend to be dead as soon as a streanger’s shadow falls over me but I will not protect that, I will not defend it, I will not call it my right. I will heal it.
I will heal my life, in my life, during my life, my every day life, so that I don’t need the right to be private, so that I don’t need to hide for safety. So that I can be open and present in my life, and with my life. And with everyone.
