“No legacy is so rich as honesty.” ~William Shakespeare

“Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway.” ~Mother Teresa

Social media is a funny thing. I’ve been slowly going through my private Facebook page and deleting those I would probably not stop and chat with in the grocery store. I mean, that seems like a pretty good measuring stick for how well you know someone, right? This way, I can prune the list, but those things I’m willing to share with everyone, even the people who don’t recognize me in the grocery store, can live here instead.

BUT I’m still running into a problem. It isn’t new, but each time I think, “Oh, I should add that to the blog,” I’m now wondering, “And who’s going to be upset by that?” It isn’t that I have nasty things to say about anyone, but a recent experience (which I will NOT explain in detail here–lesson learned) has reminded me that it isn’t about the intent; it’s about the effect. So many of my little stories involve other people, even when my focus is on my own part in them–what I did, learned, felt. Can I tell them honestly? If not, what’s the point?

I’m paying more attention to other writers. Right now, I’m reading Dare to Lead, by Brene Brown, and her book is full of anecdotes involving real people. In some cases, I feel certain she asked and received their permission, but I’m not sure that’s the case every time. Maybe it’s a question of how the person is cast in your story, and whether anyone is likely to know–or assume they know–who’s being described anonymously. Countless Mommy-blogs all over the internet recount stories about kids and spouses and relatives…do they get permission? Do they need it? I mean, if it’s YOUR story, can’t you just tell it?

The answer seems to be yes…sort of. We all get to tell our stories, but we don’t get to choose whether other people enjoy being part of them. And asking doesn’t always make it better. Can I really just ask my seven-year-old if I can tell a story and feel confident she won’t hate me for it in the future? “I know you’re embarrassed, but you said it was okay!” “MOM I WAS SEVENNNNNNN!” Can I ever tell a story about what happened with a student at school? A teacher? What about personal stories–friends, family, past relationships?

I’d intended to come over here and impart my little snippets of wisdom in the direct, honest (but I’d like to think not brutally honest) way that I think I’m known for, and to go beyond just kids and cancer. But I’d prefer not to be hurtful, and in this climate, I also have to consider whether my honesty will cost my job. Maybe people who work in schools don’t have the luxury of having personal opinions, I’m not sure. So for the people who came here to follow me through this cancer thing, that’s all mine and it will be here; if you’re hoping for stories of my girls, a.k.a. “the beasties,” they’ll be here, but curated. As for the rest, hold on and let me overthink about it. I’d like to get there; I think I have things worth saying, and I’m willing to put them out there and learn from those who choose to reply. So if you have some experience or insight on this, I’d be happy to hear it.