Thursday
Mar172011
Do I Ever Feel Like I'm Skydiving Naked
Thursday, March 17, 2011
When I started blogging back in August of 2003, I made the decision to do so under complete anonymity. I showed no photos of myself, I changed the names of everyone I mentioned, I did my best to hide my general location, and I did not use my real name to sign up for services anywhere. Googling my real name came up with little more than a wedding announcement.
(photo credit: the Palinode)
If photos like the one above from 2007 found their way online, they would send me into a panicked sweat. I worried that my employer and co-workers would find out about my online life. I worried that people from my past and my family would know. I worried that any connection between my online and offline lives would result in some kind of social and professional excommunication. I was an intensely private person suffering a heavy amount of personal shame who was slowly unfolding, following a path I couldn't not take, and the nakedness of being all of who I was out loud was nothing short of terrifying.
I have spent the last couple of years slowly coming out about my identity both online and in my real life. I've slipped my real name and location into the online spaces I inhabit, I've created a professional website using my own name, and I've gone so far as to include my online experience in my offline resume, but it wasn't until this last week that the final nail was hammered into my anonymity's coffin.
My parents watched my CBC television news segment this past week, and now the last stronghold of my anonymity has been breached.
My parents now know that I am a blogger.
This is an incredibly weighty revelation for me, because it is here in this space that I have come forward about so much of the truth about myself. I have talked openly on this website about religion, gender identity, depression and anxiety, alcoholism, and dozens of other matters that I have rarely if ever shared with the people who know me offline, and I have a strong urge to protect my parents from all of this, the things I have never told them before.
Back in 2009, six years into this blogging gig, I still thought that I would maintain my anonymity forever, and I even went on record with The Globe and Mail to talk about my online anonymity. I believed that Elan Morgan, my name by birth, need never surface in virtual waters. I could be Schmutzie and keep the rest of my life at bay where I had very unceremoniously shoved it.
And then, because I needed to find happiness again that was not predicated on hiding who I was or getting drunk after a stressful job and a breakdown and cancer bullied me around for awhile, I got the brilliant idea that I needed to live an honest life. The more I considered what an honest life would look like for me, the clearer and clearer it became that my anonymity online was just one more self-imposed closet of many. It was something I had once held onto as a fun sidebar, something I referred to as my superhero alter-ego, but its real purpose was becoming clear: I was using it to hide from aspects of my life that intimidated me. It was borne by fear and shame. My fun superhero was really the poor hiding spot of a sad, self-described fraidy-cat.
Fear lives in the dark, so I had to make the terrifying decision to force the fear out of the pit of my stomach and walk away from the majority of people and things that populated my life. I had to stop pouring alcohol down my throat, and I had to face the things I had been avoiding. I had to face up to myself in front of all and sundry. I had marry the pieces of my life back together.
I felt like I'd asked myself to skydive naked when even standing on chairs gives me the jitters sometimes.
And now, here I am. I am sober and out of my many self-imposed closets, more or less. I am so out of my closets that I went on CBC television to talk about it. I am lettingit all most of it hang out in a way that I never have before, and I feel like I am finally honouring myself and this space with a respect that is long, long overdue.
I spoke with my parents the other night on the phone. It was the first time we had spoken since they watched the CBC interview about my alcoholism. I could hear how moved they were by my confession. It was a pain I never wanted to have to share with them, but as we spoke, I felt honoured by their willingness to hear it and support me. Honoured. I was expecting to feel guilt, insecurity, lowliness even, but instead I felt honoured.
Honesty breeds surprising results. I seriously could never forecast this stuff.
After our phone call, my mother e-mailed me this photo of me and my dad from when I was about three-and-a-half years old. It's an old favourite of mine. She suggested that I doctor out some of the nicks and maybe put it on the internet to show my readers who my dad is, so here you go. This is my dad, and this is me:
Me and my father, possibly in the summer of 1976. (photo credit: Wallace Ewert, my late uncle)
Now, I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss for what to write here. My mojo got knocked off kilter with the knowledge that my parents might be here to witness my potty mouth and naked revelations. I mean, how can I say the F-word in front of my mother? It will happen eventually, because I have loose fingers, but now that my parents are here THAT F-WORD IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER.
Consider this sentence an apology for all past and future F-bombs.
Boy howdy, DO I EVER FEEL LIKE I'M SKYDIVING NAKED. ON THE TEEVEE. IN HD.
Thanks to all things sacred that similes are just similes, huh?
Hi, mom and dad!
(photo credit: the Palinode)
If photos like the one above from 2007 found their way online, they would send me into a panicked sweat. I worried that my employer and co-workers would find out about my online life. I worried that people from my past and my family would know. I worried that any connection between my online and offline lives would result in some kind of social and professional excommunication. I was an intensely private person suffering a heavy amount of personal shame who was slowly unfolding, following a path I couldn't not take, and the nakedness of being all of who I was out loud was nothing short of terrifying.
I have spent the last couple of years slowly coming out about my identity both online and in my real life. I've slipped my real name and location into the online spaces I inhabit, I've created a professional website using my own name, and I've gone so far as to include my online experience in my offline resume, but it wasn't until this last week that the final nail was hammered into my anonymity's coffin.
My parents watched my CBC television news segment this past week, and now the last stronghold of my anonymity has been breached.
My parents now know that I am a blogger.
This is an incredibly weighty revelation for me, because it is here in this space that I have come forward about so much of the truth about myself. I have talked openly on this website about religion, gender identity, depression and anxiety, alcoholism, and dozens of other matters that I have rarely if ever shared with the people who know me offline, and I have a strong urge to protect my parents from all of this, the things I have never told them before.
Back in 2009, six years into this blogging gig, I still thought that I would maintain my anonymity forever, and I even went on record with The Globe and Mail to talk about my online anonymity. I believed that Elan Morgan, my name by birth, need never surface in virtual waters. I could be Schmutzie and keep the rest of my life at bay where I had very unceremoniously shoved it.
And then, because I needed to find happiness again that was not predicated on hiding who I was or getting drunk after a stressful job and a breakdown and cancer bullied me around for awhile, I got the brilliant idea that I needed to live an honest life. The more I considered what an honest life would look like for me, the clearer and clearer it became that my anonymity online was just one more self-imposed closet of many. It was something I had once held onto as a fun sidebar, something I referred to as my superhero alter-ego, but its real purpose was becoming clear: I was using it to hide from aspects of my life that intimidated me. It was borne by fear and shame. My fun superhero was really the poor hiding spot of a sad, self-described fraidy-cat.
Fear lives in the dark, so I had to make the terrifying decision to force the fear out of the pit of my stomach and walk away from the majority of people and things that populated my life. I had to stop pouring alcohol down my throat, and I had to face the things I had been avoiding. I had to face up to myself in front of all and sundry. I had marry the pieces of my life back together.
I felt like I'd asked myself to skydive naked when even standing on chairs gives me the jitters sometimes.
And now, here I am. I am sober and out of my many self-imposed closets, more or less. I am so out of my closets that I went on CBC television to talk about it. I am letting
I spoke with my parents the other night on the phone. It was the first time we had spoken since they watched the CBC interview about my alcoholism. I could hear how moved they were by my confession. It was a pain I never wanted to have to share with them, but as we spoke, I felt honoured by their willingness to hear it and support me. Honoured. I was expecting to feel guilt, insecurity, lowliness even, but instead I felt honoured.
Honesty breeds surprising results. I seriously could never forecast this stuff.
After our phone call, my mother e-mailed me this photo of me and my dad from when I was about three-and-a-half years old. It's an old favourite of mine. She suggested that I doctor out some of the nicks and maybe put it on the internet to show my readers who my dad is, so here you go. This is my dad, and this is me:
Me and my father, possibly in the summer of 1976. (photo credit: Wallace Ewert, my late uncle)
Now, I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss for what to write here. My mojo got knocked off kilter with the knowledge that my parents might be here to witness my potty mouth and naked revelations. I mean, how can I say the F-word in front of my mother? It will happen eventually, because I have loose fingers, but now that my parents are here THAT F-WORD IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER.
Consider this sentence an apology for all past and future F-bombs.
Boy howdy, DO I EVER FEEL LIKE I'M SKYDIVING NAKED. ON THE TEEVEE. IN HD.
Thanks to all things sacred that similes are just similes, huh?
Hi, mom and dad!
categorized in writing and blogging and tagged in anonymity, dad, honesty, metablogging, mom, naked
writing and blogging and tagged in anonymity, dad, honesty, metablogging, mom, naked 
Reader Comments (43)
*fistbump* This was beautiful, girl. I am so, so proud to be your friend.
Way. To. Go. I've been waiting for this to happen for a long time. I knew that you'd let your parents into this strange circle eventually, and I'm proud of you for being able to take that step.
I am so glad I follow you! PS - my boobies do that too when I skydive neked.
Mad props. I find it paralyzing knowing that people I actually know might be reading my stuff... so I usually chicken out. You have got some balls on you girl.
Honesty breeds surprising results. Yes... honesty breeds freedom.
This was incredibly moving. Congratulations on the culmination of your journey from anonymity to freedom.
Also, as the mother of four whose body has seen better days, I am in love with the doodle and the flapping breast!
Hello to parents of Schmutzie who I am sure are proud of her today and everyday...
It's all for the good, but I'm going to have a hard time getting used to calling you Elan.
Crying. There is so much of me that I can't ever share with my family. Which means that we will never be closer than we are now. Which isn't close at all. So sad.
Awesome. I love the pic of you and your Dad and I am so proud of your parents!!
Also, the boobs. AMAZING.
I'm so happy your parents came through for you. This is a beautiful post and I am trying to keep my eyes from leaking right about now.
You never know, maybe your mom will be relieved to know you drop the F-bomb more than she guessed. Kinda frees her up to do the same.
I am not sure why, but that photo of your father and you made me tear up a little. I think it's wonderful that you're sharing this part of yourself with them now.
I love this post. And that photo of you and your father. It's beautiful.
It took me five years of being online to start a blog with my real name and keep with being honest about what I do. My mother doesn't know the name of my blog, but she doesn't approve of me writing about all and sundry! :)
Maybe she will, someday...
you have a heart and courage as big as the world... so happy that you are de-closeted on so many levels... thanks for all the soulful beauty you bring to all of us in cyberland.. i have 2 grown daughters we all make an appropriate and generous use of the F word, it is just so deliciously expressive sometimes
I shared some life altering things with my parents and they pushed it aside and pretty much told me to "just grow up". Last time I shared anything with them.
I'm really glad you got a much better reception. When my mother died a short while ago, I realized I didn't miss her as much as I thought I should and that's probably the reason.
Love the freeness of your breasties flying in the air.
And you are right.
I decided to not pretend anymore either.
My only regret is that I didn't do this 20 years earlier. I always changed for people to like me.
But, no more..and I have fallen out of touch with friends about it, and friends have confronted me and said, "well...YOU never told me about that."
Well, now I have: like me or not, it's up to you.
It is a much better way to live.
when you mentioned the other night that your parents knew about the blog, i was hoping you would write a little about that and how it made you feel. I love having been introduced to your writing, I think your particular brand of storytelling, and your authenticity about your emotions, is really fantastic.
You are a truly courageous and inspiring person. I feel lucky to have you on my blog list.
Not much to say but wanted you to know this:
:-D
Congrats on your decision to be yourself...openly and honestly. And I'm thrilled how everything was ok with your parents. I remember confessing my eating disorder to my parents as the most difficult moment of my life.
I've only been following your weblog for a few months now, so I don't know your back story, yet this post still moved me to tears (it was the photo of your dad that did me in). I'm very happy you chose to share this with your parents. As a mother of grown children, I can say I would MUCH rather learn some disturbing secrets about my children than be shut out of their lives. Here's to living an authentic life!
brave girl. good on you.
(the boobs? hysterical.)
I've said it privately to you, but I'll say it again, publicly.
I'm so proud of you and so honoured to call you my friend.
Hello Elan's parents. Your daughter is the awesome.
Your parents must be SO proud. : )
Authenticity cannot emerge without self-directed honesty. Your post is beautiful and should either of my children ever grow up to be capable of such articulate insights, I would consider my job as a parent well-done. I'm new to your blog and reading this made me want to go all the way back to the beginning; you make me re-remember (rere-member?) that living an integrated life means examining all the pieces--not hiding some and considering yourself "whole."
Good for you. Nice tit.
You are awesome!
I am so glad to know of another woman whose boobies hang out in her armpits.
Watching your transformation is amazing. Thanks for being honest.
Once again: Whoa! Just whoa. You nailed my ass at "superhero alter-ego". I am still in the terrified stage of shame, actually believing I'll be able to blog forever anonymously. (As a result - have yet to set up a site and begin, though daily I itch to, and have for years.) And the thing is, I'm not at all sure what I'm ashamed about, other than the fear of "not being good enough". Huh? For what??
Dunno.
Still. BRAVO you gorgeous woman, you, for choosing authenticity over acceptance. With your Light leading the way, I just may well do that one of these days, too.
You totally fucking (Hi, Mom!) rock. I hope you well know that.
Totally.
You were one of my first virtual mentors (unknown to you) but you keep inspiring me and impressing me with the peeling away, the courage and honesty that you write here. I aspire to become transparent - it's a process. Love the doodle and photo. Thank you for sharing (said heartfeltly- not lightly).
Hey there, you. I know who you are. Good on you. (waving at your mom and dad)
Your parents can now be proud of how awesome you are....
Oh, Elan! (You'll probably always be Schmutzie to me, but as I mentioned in that phone call a year or so ago when you couldn't locate your cell phone, I love your name.)
I'm having trouble breathing, ordering my thoughts, stopping the tears. That panic you wrote about? The cold sweats? That's me right now. The thought of my parents, siblings, coworkers, friends-outside-of-the-intergoogle-box finding my blog or twitter account stops me dead in my tracks. I'm not sure why - I'm speaking MY truth - but it does.
I've taken small steps toward "owning" my online persona here and there (finally using my face as my avatar, giving my blog link to a few select friends (although, to be fair, they're friends that I met - and only know - online years ago), etc). I'm stuck somewhere between panic at the thought of being "out" (what if I don't feel free to write what I *need* to anymore?), and a mixture of awe and wonder at not having to hide (because, really, I don't have anything interesting or juicy to hide).
Thank you for giving me hope and a little extra bravery to keep in my pocket. <3
I just found you today and I'm so glad I did. What a great post to start - I'll be back to read more. Wow.
Wow. That is so, so incredible! I feel like we're just seeing the first raindrops of the marvelous storm that is Schmutzie-Elan. Or something :) Props to you, and to your parents.
Found you via Beautiful Because--Such a frank and brave post. I don't know a thing about you or your blog, but this post makes me want to know more, read more...
Here's to naked skydiving!
I started off anonymously, but not nearly as well as you did--and I was called out. I blog now as me, Margaret. There is a liberation to just being myself and just saying to hell with it--take me as I am.
Cheers to you, and thanks for such an honest, touching post.
Wonderful story. You are so brave. And as far as your Mom goes, let me say this. My son has a film review he does on a website and when i first tuned in (how old am I? tuned in?) I was so proud. Then much to my surprise he was f-bombing all over the place and I was well, shocked. Then I got the hell over myself and thought "he's a man now, why can't he say it, you do". And I do. A lot. You have done so many brave things to lighten your heart. This is the beginning of wonderful times for you Elan Morgan.
This. Is. Sensational.
Clapping for you.
BRAVO!!
An admirable leap into the territory unknown is worthy of some kind of celebration. Enjoy it, embrace it. This is your world and you've chosen to share your commentary with all of us. We appreciate your honesty and your ability to help us see our own world through your perspective.
Wow! Great blog post. Great doodle too. LOL
I so needed to read this tonight. I have been struggling with how much to share myself. I have kept everything fairly anonymous up to this point because I am afraid of what my parents and extended family would think of me if they knew I was blogging (IF they even knew what blogging was). They're from small towns and have never experienced this kind of open and vulnerable dialogue, in real life or online. So I protect them from it...or I protect myself from them. I'm not really that sure which it is but it's definitely a struggle for me. Reading about your experience has helped. Thanks!
Have I mentioned that I LOVE your blog? :)
Well done for doing it though! I think this - like skydiving naked - will probably be worth it all in the end :)
Good for you! I've been holding my anonymous blogging close to my heart and I am definitely not ready to come out yet - though, I haven't been blogging as long as you, so I am sure my time will come. Have I mentioned that you are an inspiration to me? It sounds so lame, but it's so true. I'm going back to hide in my corner now....