Is Your Greatest Flaw Your Biggest Asset?

Do you bury it down or let it shine?

Medium isn’t my first rodeo in the online writing world. I’ve dabbled on other sites. They’re always the same content: the brain dumps of an anxiety-ridden female human who overthinks the shit out of everything.

Regardless of the forum, one feedback theme emerges. People, especially men, praise my ability to be “raw”, “honest”, “authentic”, and my ability to “articulate these feelings”. A few have called me “intriguing” as a result.

Every time, my reaction is akin to Hela’s at the 57-second mark:

I stay anonymous online so that I’m not self-conscious about writing what’s in me. And if you cut me open, what’s in me isn’t the poetic beauty of dying flowers or a wounded unicorn. The way other women write is so achingly beautiful, their pain dances like raindrops on an ocean. Rip me open and you’ll find an ugly little gremlin, chain-smoking (I don’t smoke, but that fucker does), blocking his eyes from the light while yelling “what the fuck asshole, can’t you see I want to be left alone?”

If I met me, after reading my own writing, I’d assume that I’m crazy town. The kind of girl who wears grungy t-shirts with streaked black eyeliner and might be fun when drunk. The kind of girl who smashes her beer stein and threatens to start a fight if someone looks at her the wrong way.

And with that in mind, I’m floored when anyone compliments my writing as “raw” and “intriguing”. Did you not read what I wrote? Yo, I’m carving my shiv in the corner here. I’m carving it out of Dove soap with a Kitchenaid knife that I’ll use to slice carrots later, but that’s not the point.

The point is that I’m fully aware when I write I sound like a nightmare of a human.

Perhaps it’s easy to be complimentary when you’re not dealing with me in real life. The attributes given to my writing online are the same things said to me as criticism in real life.

I’m too loud.

I’m unrefined.

I’m politically-incorrect.

I’m too blunt.

I’m sassy.

I’m sarcastic.

I’m too “I can’t believe you just said that!”

In a performance review by the worst creature I had to call Boss, he wrote over a dozen times how “witty” I am. I showed it to my colleagues and they unanimously agreed: he wanted to write “bitchy”.

Why is unabashed honesty acceptable behind the guise of a computer but in real life, it’s a character flaw?

The biggest victims of my sparkling personality (eye roll) are my romantic relationships. Most of them didn’t know the Real Me. I tempered myself, playing up just enough sass to be flirty but not so much that they felt threatened. If I let too much of my true self show, it inevitably led to arguments and them telling me that my bluntness (or other honest traits) was the cause of our fights.

It’s scary when I let my guard down and show all of it. Reconciling the person online with who I am in real life only happened twice. It was liberating and I finally felt at ease. Unfortunately, when those love interests were gone, it left me more wounded than I could fathom. When I pry myself open to be raw and honest with someone, it’s on me to sew myself back up when they’re gone.

It’s an exercise in vulnerability. Not the part of showing the raw, honest side of me. The vulnerability lies in hoping that they’ll accept me, flaws and all. That my unabashed openness isn’t used against me as a weapon.

It’s devastating when who you are as a human is what’s blamed for someone else’s unhappiness.

Is the secret to juggling your greatest flaws to ignore the naysayers and go balls-in to make them your biggest asset?

A coworker/friend of mine is the biggest loudmouth I know. I love her to death, but geezus fuck she can be obnoxious. However, she doesn’t tone anything down and it’s admirable. She operates at full blast. This is why she’s fantastic at her job as a project manager; she commands the room, people listen to her orders, and she gets what she needs at the snap of her fingers.

She has zero fucks to give to the naysayers about her personality.

With my writing, I’m not trying to be anything other than myself. I’m dumping one of the many simultaneous dialogues in my mind onto my keyboard. I don’t think about it making sense, nor do I think about whether anyone else will even read my oft-mindless dribble.

I don’t think I’m any more in-tune with my inner self than anyone else. We’re experts on ourselves. Articulating in-person is different than writing it down. Here, Medium is an extension of my diary. It’s between me and a blank page. There is no audience.

Being raw and honest is easy when there’s no direct recipient of my words. If I tell someone in real life my thoughts, I have to factor in their mood, their existing knowledge of me, my relationship with them, and their personality. Here, it’s only me and my monitor. There’s no need for me to alter my words for my environment.

Perhaps it’s easy for me to vocalize my true thoughts by writing because growing up, my paper diary was the only spot I could be myself. I didn’t want to be different from my friends, so I never revealed the drama happening in my house. They did, however, see my uncensored personality. I was too young to know any better.

At home, I had to behave like an emotionless, dutiful robot. Writing in my diary was the only way that I could express all the things I wanted to scream but knew I’d get a beatdown if I did. It allowed me to process my thoughts like I was “talking” out loud, in the absence of having anyone else to talk to.

Medium is my modern-day journal where I can talk without fear of judgment or pushback for being myself.

I’m still learning to toe the line between being too crass and full restraint.

Those who know me best have given up on tempering my personality. I often get compared to Ali Wong (if you haven’t watched her Netflix standups, punch yourself for your insolence), which I’ll take as a compliment.

What is the biggest hurdle? Articulating your thoughts to others…or having the vulnerability and trust they’ll accept you if you do?