A: I have a meta-confession.

B: What the fuck is a meta-confession?

A: I want to confess that I seem to enjoy confessions a little too much.

B: Are you using me to get yourself off? You’re a sick son of a bitch.

A: Yes. I mean, no. Um, this isn’t what you’re supposed to say.

B: What, am I supposed to say nice, soothing, supportive things all the time?

A: I don’t know. I guess…?

B: You thought wrong. You’re depraved and you need help.

A: Isn’t that what you’re here for?

B: Well…

A: Gotcha.

B: I’m judging you. This is my “I’m judging you” face.

A: So anyway. I’m wondering if confessions are somehow toxic and if I should stop doing them.

B: Clearly you’re not going to.

A: How can you say that? You don’t know if that’s true.

B: I don’t, but you have almost 700,000 more words to write. There’s no way you’re going to make it to the end without a few confessions.

A: That’s probably true. Feels kinda mean, though.

B: Deal with it, bruh.

A: Well you’re stuck here with me anyway, so I’m just going to keep going. I think… there are two points of view that I’m sympathetic to. The first is this idea that vulnerability and honesty is important and cathartic. The Brene Brown sorta thing. And at the same time, I don’t want to fall into the trap of being this overwhelming bleeding heart, bleeding all over everybody. That’s just nasty. Nobody should have to put up with that shit.

B: I’m standing right here, you know.

A: You’re different. I’m inventing you for my own purposes. I made you up. You exist to serve my needs. This exchange is happening so I can spare other people my bullshit.

B: Your sweetness knows no bounds.

A: Yeah so I think the second school of thought is this idea that a man– maybe all people, but there’s definitely a gendered aspect to it– a man should handle his own goddamn feelings, figure out his own problems, and not communicate doubt and fear and anxiety unnecessarily to people. But what is necessary? What is a reasonable, healthy, acceptable amount? How do you draw the line?

B: *sigh* I’m sure you already know the answer. What do you think?

A: Well– I guess it’s not a purely objective thing. It seems to be an outcome driven sort of thing. If you have people counting on you, you shouldn’t be breaking down and bleeding– that makes it harder for them to count on you. Unless, of course, you actually need help. If you need help then you should ask for help. But asking for help should be done in a firm, confident way, such that people know that they CAN help. I think everybody loves to help people if they know they can help, but nobody likes to be stuck in a nasty situation where there’s no way out.

B: Sounds about right.

A: So if I really need to whine, I can just whine to you. Anybody who wants to opt in and hear this crap is free to do it if they want to, but I won’t allow it to be a part of my personal life. I won’t burden people with my idiosyncratic nonsense.

B: Only me.

A: Yup. For now. Maybe eventually I’ll grow out of this. How will you feel then, huh? You might not even have a reason to exist.

B: Are you implying that you have a reason to exist?

A: Well– CAN YOU NOT

B: Hee hee. You’re not the only one who’s allowed to have fun, you know.

A: Yeah. I guess I’m prematurely optimizing this. I’ll just do what feels right at each moment, and sometimes spend a little time thinking about what the future might be like, but the most important thing is that…

B: You’re being a little convoluted.

A: Let me start over. I’m not sure about what is an appropriate amount of confession for me to… confess. I know for certain that it’s better for me to keep my confessions in these little bounded vomits, so that I can live my life without feeling like I’ve burdened people with my nonsense. So that’s a step in the right direction. But I’m now wondering if I should eventually get to a point where I don’t even need to confess at all. Or, framed another way, I wonder if the act of confession– the constant need for some sort of peer validation, some sort of “there, there” from somebody– even if it’s inside my own head– is keeping me from growing up, keeping me as a child of sorts.

B: What does growing up look like to you?

A: Well, growing up is when I’m a good parent to myself. When I’m taking care of business. When I’m sustainable, when my health– physical, psychological, emotional, social, all of those things– are well taken care of, and I’m able to help other people as well. When I make other people healthier just by being in my presence, because I’m so helpful and kind and loving and gracious and inspiring.

B: You have lofty aims for a validation addict. Are the two related?

A: That seems very likely, actually. Do I really want to be kind, or do I just want all the good feelings that come with being kind? I think David Foster Wallace drove himself crazy thinking about this, and clearly there are some sort of paradoxes and Zen puzzles here to be contemplated. The reality of it is probably that the distinction doesn’t matter, all that matters is actually being healthy. The labels aren’t all that helpful.

B: So what are your next steps?

A: Well right now I’m done with this so I’m going to go to bed. I suppose next I ought to do some of the work we talked about in the previous vomits– the outlining of unknowns. And once I’m done with that I guess we can have more to talk about.

B: Oh, joy. 😛