I don’t ever want this blog to just be a shell of who I really am. It’s easy to put my best foot forward and have this be just an extension of my Facebook page, one more way to tell everyone how great my life really is.
I don’t want to do that here, and I don’t think that will ever serve me well if I want to be a writer.
I need to learn how to be honest, with myself, with my readers, with everyone around me.
I think I have spent most of my life thinking that I have to impress people to make them like me. What I am beginning to realize is that people don’t want to be impressed. In fact, if we try to act too perfect around people, they probably won’t like us, because really, who likes a perfect person? People like an honest person, and someone who has just as many flaws as they know they have.
So I’m working on my honesty. And here are some confessions.
I hit my snooze button four times this morning. This is not uncommon for me.
10:30 pm is late for me to be out of bed still. 6:30 am is early.
I still sleep sometimes with my blanket from when I was little, because it’s really soft and warm.
I have never done my own taxes. And I never want to.
When I don’t want to do something, it’s really hard to make me do it.
I only shower every other day, unless something crazy happens.
Since I got married, I have probably looked back at my wedding pictures 2-3 times a week. I’m not sure when this will slow down.
I care a lot what people think of me. Particularly how I look. Now that I’m married, I think I care more what girls think I look like than boys.
I’m too old to be calling females girls and males boys, but “woman” and “man” feel so old to me.
I’m unbelievably, inconsolably, irreparably impatient.
Sometimes I say things just to try to make people laugh, because I feel like it will make them like me.
Most of the time when I write something, I hope it will make someone like me.
I’m almost always wondering if someone likes me. I wish I could say I didn’t care, but I do. I really do.
Sometimes I get on Facebook just to compare my life to other people’s lives. And even if I didn’t get on there for that express purpose, it usually comes around to that.
When someone else is successful at something, 9 times out of 10 I am more jealous than happy for them.
I think my way is better.
I struggle with anxiety. And maybe a little bit of OCD. Not the funny kind.
I play with my hair all. the. time. I’m seriously considering going to therapy for it. I think I’ve given myself arthritis. You probably think I’m kidding.
There are a lot of things that I didn’t write here, because I’m scared to.
Well, that’s all for now. Hopefully that gives you a little better idea of who I am when no one is looking.
What are your confessions?