Before writing my last post, which included my uneventful experience with marijuana legalization in the U.S., I didn’t know how I should talk about the subject on this blog. I was beginning to blog for the first time in years, finally getting into the swing of things, and it was during that night, high as a kite after a few inhalations (Sorry, Bill. I do inhale.) that I stayed up pondering the guilt I felt for doing something that at one point in my life, was completely normal. I decided long ago that I shouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t be proud of, but my marijuana paranoia blew my opinion of the situation out of proportion, and it had lasting effects.
I knew I wanted to chronicle my travels, adventures as a parent, etcetera, but after years of putting my best foot forward on social media—making sure to sugar coat and plastic wrap all of my doings so they’d be perceived in a positive light by some dude I met at a party three years ago and my mother’s cousin alike, writing raw and naturally without a concern for looking good or receiving outside approval didn’t come naturally anymore. In fact, it was downright scary.
Add in that my degree’s focus in college was public relations, and I considered for a moment that I was having a personal branding PR CRISIS. Be transparent or spin? Include or not include? EW. Concern with those types of things is not why I wrote this blog, and JESUS CHRIST EVEN IF I RUN FOR CONGRESS, IT WAS LEGAL.
(I would NEVERNEVERNEVER do that, by the way. The things I did between the ages of 12-20 were MUCH more incriminating.)
It took me a while to settle in on the idea, but this was a good lesson in vulnerability for me. If I think THAT’S too uncomfortable to continue writing, then I’ll never be able to share the juicier stories from my younger years or the real me at all. It takes bravery to admit the things we’ve done that we’re less than proud of, and I think I’ve mustered up enough of that.