I used to be such a flake. When I was in my early 20’s, my friends had no idea that while they were out with other friends, I was at home, alone reading Wayne Dyer, Lester Levenson, Marcus Aurelius, Elbert Hubbard, Ernest Holmes and every personal development text I could get my hands on.
This whole concept of consciously improving my thoughts and living a more fulfilled, joyous existence fed a certain part of me that had been lacking for so long. I was living the results in mental clarity, spiritual fulfillment, and a refreshed outlook. My emotional wounds from a childhood wrought with dysfunction were starting to heal before my eyes. Every night, it was like a download of insight and an outcasting of bad juju. This high was better than any I’d ever experienced before.
I lost a lot of old friends. I didn’t really want it to happen. It just did. My mind was focused on solitary soul work. If they were preoccupied with things that didn’t align with my vision, I just showed up less and less. I became a horrible friend. I didn’t return phone calls. I made up excuses to not watch the football game or go to this or that party.
It was hard. A lot of bad blood was shed.
But the thing is, they probably won’t read this post (and the ones that do, I’m sorry guys!).
As for the friends I have now, I really don’t like to show this side of myself around them. I display a bit of a mask to keep things comfortable. I don’t want to be the preachy, self-helpey one to them. Even though they totally accept it (they basically have no choice at this stage of the game), it’s hard, this balance of publicly sharing the stuff that is more comfortable staying hidden and safe inside while maintaining ‘normal’ relationships with people you just want to be pals with.
It took me forever to share my art — my love of putting higher thoughts into simple, clear impactful words. But when I started to, the floodgates opened.
I started getting emails from people on the other side of the world about how my insights were helping them deal with their PTSD or healing the relationship with their daughter who they haven’t spoken with in 5 years, but have just gotten the courage to pick up the phone and call.
This is who I write to, as well as the teenage me who could have used these words.
There’s gotta be a part of yourself that is too uncomfortable to share in a big way. But there’s a certain higher part of you who’s urging you to put it out there. It may not be what your ‘friends’ need. But it’s what the people who need it need.