This was originally posted on the Sisterwives website, which has unfortunately since folded.
I’ve been more honest on my blog than I’ve ever been with most people involved in my life. But at the same time, the “face” of Liv is a lie – I don’t use my real name, or my children’s names – and I blur some facts about me – to protect us.
Everyone has a story to tell. I’m no different. I love to tell stories. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to tell them. And to have eyes to read them.
I can’t #BeReal in the sense of most of the SisterWives and the other posts here.
It’s not that I’m not authentic. My blog tells more truths about me and my inner workings than anyone in the world knows. My truest feelings, my fears, my emotions – all laid bare for the world to see.
But I hide behind a façade. A made up name. The people who read my stories hear my voice without seeing my face.
Liv is a lie.
She speaks my words. She lays bare my soul. She tells my truth.
But she also lies.
To protect me. Little lies. White ones. But they’re still lies.
Is it really that different from my fellow bloggers?
Writers exaggerate. They tell tales. About Big Fish….that were actually quite small. There is a certain freedom to being anonymous. As the people who would be affected by my stories don’t know I’ve written them, I am free to tell them in my own voice.
So maybe, Liv isn’t so much a lie as a truth with a different name.
A rose by any other name?
Image credit: (Edited) graur codrin / freedigitalphotos.net
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