Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Life in the Third Degree.
I had a message in my inbox the other day from a reader who was offended by something I wrote in one of my blog posts. She felt it wasn’t typical of me and the writing was darker than usual. After some back and forth, she explained that “If time should make history of us, and we live to be old, our grandchildren will read this and know you as you are right now.”
Well, that gave me pause.
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My children are grown now and my youngest has a little one of her own. So my grandchildren will read what I’ve written. And they’ll know me through what I’ve written—not through emails or conversations or memories, but through my words and thoughts and observations.
That’s a pretty heavy responsibility.
But then I thought about the older women authors I admire and respect. I don’t know them as they are now in their 60’s or 70’s or 80’s. I know them as they were in their 30’s and 40’s and 50’s when they wrote the works I read. And I respect their journey. I respect how they grew and changed. I respect that they weren’t always the way I see them now.
So why would I want to hide who I am now for fear of who I might be later?
The reader felt my “dark” post was a betrayal of everything I’ve stood for. But I think she was wrong. I think the darkness was a part of me all along. I was just being more honest about it. And the honesty itself—the vulnerability, if you will—is actually a continuation of the same thread that’s woven throughout everything I’ve written.
So let my grandchildren read this and know me now. Let them see how I evolved. Let them see my darkness as well as my light. Let them see that I wasn’t always perfectly polished or politically correct or conforming. Let them see that I was learning and growing and changing, just like they will be.
Because if time should make history of us, then let us be true to ourselves in the here and now.
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