Not Confidential

I am not making resolutions for 2019, and I do not have any grand plans for the new year, but I do anticipate a bit of what lies ahead for me, which I shall welcome with enthusiasm and a dash of uncertainty.

This new year is going to deliver me — TOMORROW — a child who will be, in legal terms, an adult. Emphasis on the word legal rather than, say, demonstrated, because I gather that the magical age of 18 does not automatically produce impeccable reasoning and decision making. I think my almost-adult is on the right path, but will he race out to a tattoo parlor and mark his young skin with artwork that he may question when he’s older? Could happen. Will he start making the mature decision to clear his room of dirty dishes, regularly flush the toilet, and perhaps start a load of laundry? Probably not.

The new year may also add a beginner driver to our household. But it may not because the kid who will be eligible to drive in May has not yet put his hands on a steering wheel, and if he says he’s not ready to operate a motor vehicle on the open roads, then I trust him. And I will savor the extra money in the bank because auto insurance for teenage boys is no joke.

I suspect that 2019 is going to bring me face to face with menopause. Won’t be my first go-round because chemotherapy for breast cancer at age 34 knocked me into the dreadful cycle and then kindly brought me out so that I could experience it again at age 48. Lucky me.

And finally, I embark on 2019 working with eight fabulous women and one man (for balance, you know) to help create and publish neighborhood magazines in Ohio, Arizona, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Virginia. I will soon meet these amazing individuals face to face at a conference in Orlando.

I am ready for this new year, which will surely unfold much like the years that have come before, with the ups and downs of hope, joy, laughter, disappointment, stress, and sorrow. And for good measure this year, hot flashes.

I recently learned while watching Paul McCartney on James Corden’s “Carpool Karaoke” that the former Beatle wrote the 1970 song “Let It Be” about his mom (“When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me; Speaking words of wisdom, let it be”). I have been replaying the song (“Alexa, play ‘Let It Be’”) and finding comfort in the words when I cannot control what life hands me.

I cannot control what happened today. But I can write (overshare) about it.

Today, I learned that I did not get a job for which I applied because I overshared in one of my two interviews. I probably overshared in both interviews, really, but only one person dinged me for it. The interview was more like a counseling session than an interview, according to the one person. I am not sure if I was the counselor or the patient, but I have previously been both, so I am comfortable in each role. Interestingly, I have a master’s degree in counselor education, and the job I wanted required counseling-related skills, so I am not offended by how the interviewer described the hour-long session we shared. The interviewer told me at the end of our time together that she genuinely enjoyed talking with me. Likewise. We spoke with ease; connected over commonalities (I am a list maker, and so is she); and learned from each other. I borrowed from her wisdom, and she complimented me on how I have revamped my professional email communication to solicit reader action. “I am going to use that,” she said after I explained writing action-oriented subject lines.” She also said that I shared a great example of how I navigated a workplace decision that was hindered by policy.

I was surprised to hear today that I did not get the job, and at first, I had trouble processing the scenario. I took the news personally because I was accused of being too personal. Apparently, I should have been less honest even though honesty is what tells my story. I honestly shared why I have worked at home for 17 years (to be home with my kids, challenge myself professionally, help provide for my family, and role model a strong work ethic for two growing boys). I honestly shared why I am seeking a new job (because my boys are teenagers, one dangerously close to leaving the nest, and my goal since having babies has been to re-enter the outside workforce when they grow up and away from me). I honestly shared that one of my strengths is adapting to change — professional changes such as leaving one field and entering another and personal changes such as parenting and cancering. I gave examples of meeting the morphing needs of my children because my gosh, is mothering not the perfect high-stress training ground for almost every job ever? (Well, maybe not every job, but for this job, I am certain that some of the skills are transferable.)

What I did not reveal in my interview is that I have been oversharing for 14 years; I started on this path when I began authoring my breast cancer blog in 2004, and I have continued my open-book approach on social media and in personal exchanges. The practice has served me — and others — well. During the peak of my blogging, I received 200 unique visitors per day from countries all over the world. I sent my wig to several women I met via my blog to borrow and send back so that I could send it off again. A friend receiving treatment for breast cancer told me last week that my story has helped guide her. Another friend told me that one of my mammogram Facebook posts inspired her to schedule her appointment, and another informed me that I bring light and happiness to other’s lives. I suppose a long-term oversharing habit is hard to break, and after spending a few hours today in emotional turmoil over losing a part-time job opportunity, I found clarity and realized that I do not want to halt the habit. I am not revealing top-secret information. I am not betraying anyone’s confidence. I am simply being me. According to Jen Doll in her article “In Defense of Oversharing a Little Too Much Information” in The Atlantic, “no one gets criticized specifically for undersharing. No one says that word. People just say ‘boring.’ And it does seem that women in particular (and women who write especially) are unduly criticized — not for being dull, but for the sin of oversharing.”

I do not argue that sharing personal information in a professional job interview can be dangerous; something I said, or several somethings that I said, did, in fact, disqualify me. And maybe I will temper my overshare in future interviews; maybe I will not. I do not apologize for feeling deeply or sharing freely. Author, activist, philanthropist, and online oversharer Glennon Doyle posted on Facebook recently that “feeling deeply and expressing those feelings honestly IS brave. Letting your heart be seen IS brave.” She wrote that sensitivity is a superpower and that we must make sure our children know this — especially our boys because the world is teaching them something different.

“Oversharing is widely deplored and highly criticized, and those who commit the crime are often themselves considered affronts to good taste,” Doll wrote. “Maybe they can’t help it. And also, couldn’t it be worse?” Yes. I could have undershared and not fully revealed who I am and what I can do, which could have also ruled me out for the job. In a match between over and under, I choose over.

I cannot control what happened today. So I will continue to march on as I have been, and when someone finds my honestly and personal story to be worthy, that person will hire me. Until that time, I will let it be.

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be