Expressive

One of my friends told me the other day that I was expressive. Okay, she didn't come right out and say that I was expressive, but she said my writing and the way I speak are expressive. So I have mutated that comment to "Shannon, you are expressive." And I have decided that is the best compliment I could get.

I like being expressive - if we are using the positive connotation of "expressive." Basically, I like laughing and making other people laugh. I don't even really care if they are laughing at me or with me. I like telling stories because I hope they make other people feel good or smile when they are having a crummy day. I try hard to be outgoing, welcoming, and bubbly - after all, if you have the choice between smiling or crying, why not smile?

I wasn't always this way. Until my twenties, I was shy. Painfully shy. I am sure that a therapist (or anyone who thinks they are a therapist) would say it was because of low self esteem. I was tentative when it came to making friends, and I was afraid to say anything to people because I was worried I would come off as an idiot, or - worse than that - they wouldn't like me. Because of this, I often came across as cold, standoffish, and sullen. I don't think I was ever any of those things, but maybe I was. Or, as one of my sisters succinctly put it once: I was a bi!%&

The reason I bring this up is because I just spent two days at my parents house with my kids. I love my parents and I am always happy to see them. But I find myself reverting whenever I am around a group of family members - back to that scared, shy 17 year old kid, who didn't speak up a lot and seemed to take offense at everything, even though she just did not know how to respond. And, what is worse, I allow myself to be treated like that kid. It's sad, because this doesn't allow my family the experience of knowing who I am now; after all, I am a much cooler person now that I am comfortable in my own skin. (Everyone is).

I don't think my family has ever really stopped seeing me as that 17 year old kid -- honestly, I don't know if they can. Sometimes, I don't know if I can. But I don't think my family can see me as a 30 year old, confident, friendly woman who can take care of herself and is a good teacher, loving wife, and terrific mother (I know I shouldn't toot my own horn, but this once seems acceptable). Just like I don't know if I can see them outside of the roles that I have assigned to them. It's hard to expand your perceptions of what you knew then to what is true now...