Flaky

My sister called me flaky the other day. (I know! My own sister!) I would be more upset with her except I know exactly what she is talking about, even if I don't want to own up to it. She didn't mean that I am a flake as much as I act like a flake in certain situations. Actually, in a majority of situations. This is a new development since my divorce and my tumultuous John Black relationship.

For the record, I am not a flake. I am way closer to the bookworm end of the scale than the airhead side. I would be a life long student if I were financially independent because I want to know everything. Literally...everything. (Can you imagine how fantastic it would be to argue with someone when you knew everything? They could never win! You would always be right!) Facts are like my security blanket. Starting a new hobby I know nothing about? Research! Going on a trip to somewhere I have never been? Research! Looking for a slightly healthy version of pizza bites so that I can just eat more without all that guilt? Research! You get the point....I always feel better with more knowledge, thus my bookworm status. So having established that, why do I act flaky?

I think it is only natural after being hurt to want to protect yourself. With that said, I am definitely the kind of girl that wears her heart on her sleeve, pretty much the ideal candidate for getting my heart broken. And that really isn't something I could change. What I could change was how deep I let people in. So I did. It was easier to keep things casual, keep conversation light hearted and fun....rather than let people dig around in my emotions and prod me with questions I either didn't want to answer or didn't want to even think about to begin with. Letting people see that I was still sad or still lonely years later pretty much killed an evening out and it invited all kinds of people's opinions on my life - which I didn't really want either. After a time, it became habit to keep people distanced, to keep conversations bubbly and fun, to be lively enough to keep people from looking too closely. I wasn't trying to be flaky, I was just trying to be the fun side of myself and keep people at a distance at the same time.

And it works. I am sure that there are many people that think all I do is go out to eat, drink wine, and shop; people that think I am about as deep as a kiddie pool. And that is OK. At that time in my life, the most important thing was to protect myself as I figured out how to heal and move on - so the trade off was completely worth it. Now that I am (mostly) on the other side of it all, it is something that I will have to work on, trusting people again. I like to think that I am not bitter or jaded from this experience, but comments like Emily's 'flaky' comment make me stop and think of all the little ways that I have unconsciously armoured myself against getting hurt again - ways that I don't even think about anymore because they are so automatic. Letting go of those defenses is probably going to be a little bit like weaning a baby off of their security blanket I am sure. After all these years of comfortably settling in behind a social facade it makes me twitchy to even think about being vulnerable again to anyone - family, friends, Chet - but I am self aware enough to know that hiding behind the most entertaining part of my personality isn't going to do me any favors in the long run. It was a great trick to get me here, but I don't want to live my life with any part of my divorce hanging over my head or having any power over me - even if it is just evident in my unresolved trust issues. Thankfully I have a plan to make it easier on myself.....eating out, drinking wine, and shopping.