Back to Reality

I’m sitting on an airplane. I don’t want my flight to end because I don’t want what comes next.

Reality.

I miss the snow. I miss the grand sights. I miss my people. I miss the escape.

While I was there, we got caught up in this show about some spy who lived so many lies. I kept saying how enticing that sounded. How freeing. I kind of wanted to be her.

Funny, I spent so many years peeling back the layers of hurt learning how to be vulnerable. Genuine. To the point where it seems there’s not one person in my life who doesn’t truly know me. Even at work, where a little “I know exactly what I’m doing” facade couldn’t hurt.

I’ve forgotten how to even put on a mask or a front to the point where I find myself surprised when my honesty becomes too much. Too deep, swim back to the surface, Erinn, where people are a little more comfortable. Quit pulling them into the scary end where your real feelings live. The pretty ones and the ugly ones too.

It’s annoying, I’ve come to learn. Sure, it’s beautiful and genuine and everything I firmly believe God wants from me, but it also feels so simple. Kind of…stupid, like showing all your cards. I’ve often said I’m sick of being so easy to figure out. But it’s because I make it that way. It’s really my own fault.

Maybe that’s why I watched this show, this character, and grew such jealousy for her web of lies. What would it be like to stand in front of someone and have them not really know me? Like really really not know me? How…thrilling!

Like a good book, mysterious people like her keep us on the edge of our seats, heart racing, jaw clenched—what will happen next?  She crafts so many stories for her own selfish purposes that she ends up forgetting the truth and believing the lie. Her true self is buried somewhere deep, packed beneath the soil of enticing fronts. Impressive careers, fake love, selfish relationships. The people in her life don’t even have a clue. What morons, right?

She comes out winning. She presents the painting of herself she wants others to buy.

I said more than once to my friend—how interesting to live a life like that. How cool. I wish I could do that. When she lives a complete lie, she really has nothing to lose. She never gets her heart broken. She never gets disappointed. I think that’s the part I wanted. And I meant it. Scary.

I’ve prayed to become authentic, and all come to find that it’s really quite boring. It’s a trip back to reality.

The mysteries and thrillers are the page-turners, but I suppose they’re not the books we crack open when looking for anything more than shallow entertainment.