I've been trying to learn how to play the guitar and the piano recently. Not having a piano, it's fairly hard for me to practice. But I have a friend who does and when I visit his house, I try to take a minute to practice. I've taken to playing one of my all-time favorites: And So It Goes by Billy Joel.
Although I've liked this song for some time, it has assumed a special meaning to me. First, a bit of background.
It's no secret that people's first impressions of me vary. In fact, they vary so much that I could probably write an entire blog post (or a series of them) on the subject. Since many people first see me in large group situations, it's pretty common for people to think of me as loud and energetic – sometimes, even disruptive. I think that my openness comes across quickly, as well. These impressions are all correct: I'm unafraid of large groups and frequently take charge when no one else has done so. Sometimes, I'm the one who organizes a game of freeze tag simply because freeze tag is awesome. I don't mind broaching subjects that make lots of people uncomfortable. And I write fairly personal things on this public blog.
Unfortunately, many of my acquaintances seem to think that they've got me pegged with their first impression. As is the case with every person who has ever lived, there's more to me than meets the eye.
I'm not terribly concerned with the people who assume things about my character because of their first impressions of me. In fact, several people have thought ill of me when they first met me, only to form wonderful friendships with me later.
What concerns me is that, because I'm comfortable in groups and because I'm so open, that people make subtler assumptions about me. One that is especially worrisome to me is that sometimes people assume that I express everything that I think and feel. I say so much that I don't really blame people for thinking as they do about me. But the thoughts and feelings that matter most to me are the ones that I express most selectively.
One facet most people don't see is the pain that I feel. I don't usually share my struggles, especially in public settings. I frequently wish I could talk about them but don't always know who will listen; my problems tend to be so different from the problems of others that my friends have trouble relating. I've even opened up just to be told (in an annoyed tone) that my problems are desirable and that I should stop whining.
I'm perhaps most guarded about romantic affection. I'm open about my admiration for people and form friendships easily. This is not the case with romantic love. I'm very cautious about expressing romantic affection. I think that, several times, my failure to express my feelings have been interpreted as the absence of attachment. I've been aware of this for some time, but I'm still trying to figure out how and when to best express it. I'm making this up as I go.
And so we come to Billy Joel's music. It might seem like what's visible at the outset is all that's in my heart, but this is far from true. There is a sanctuary in there. It is safe and strong because there are no doors or windows. I am learning to tear a hole in the wall to let people in. It hurts every time, but my deepest desire is to share this room and to have that trust reciprocated. Singing this beautiful song is simultaneously an expression of my hidden pain and of my desire to open up more fully. It is also a reminder that opening up is up to me.
But you, my friends, can help me. You can ask me tough questions. Please dig deep. You can care about my thoughts and you can share yours – even if they disagree with mine. Please be patient with me. Please don't let my silence make you leave.
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