Have you heard about this interesting blogging movement? I’m super late to the party, but I love it. The Things I’m Afraid to Tell You meme started with these posts on Make Under My Life, and Creature Comforts Blog, and then hundreds of bloggers followed suit. The idea is that people reading lifestyle or design blogs only ever see beautiful or perfect things, and that this doesn’t reflect reality.
My blog is for sure not about ideal, pretty things. The entire concept is centered on things I was—and am—afraid to tell people, as well as afraid to try. And although my intent with it isn’t to tell you everything, I realized that I am withholding the really mortifying things.
I think that even though I’m being super open with this blog, I’m still trying to present myself in a certain way and box out the parts of me that I think are just unbearably embarrassing.
In fact, sometimes I worry that I’m too open about my issues. I was discussing my inability at the moment to tell the difference between happiness and contentment with a friend, and she asked me a very basic question: “Why do you have to think about it?” I’m not sure, but I think this is how I process life, by sharing and then comparing my responses to other people to keep myself in line.
But then again, comparing myself to other people isn’t helping me to be happy.
So here it is: some really embarrassing things about me. You know they’re good, since all the other posts have been embarrassing, too!
- I read historical romances. They’re cheesy as hell, but I can count on them to wrap up satisfactorily, which is a nice constant.
- I have been ridiculously terrible with money up to this point in my life. I’m getting things back on track, but I’m still fighting the desire to just avoid thinking about money…which always gets me into trouble.
- I read some women’s magazines. I disagree really strongly with almost everything they stand for, I scoff at nearly every line I read, and yet I keep going back.
- I’m afraid to look out of windows at night. Even on the second floor. I’m constantly sure that something will be looking back in at me.
- I am extremely insecure about my friends. I’m worried that I’m not good enough to be their friend, and that I’m not doing enough for them to justify them keeping me on, and that they’ll get sick of me any day. I had a really literal dream the other day wherein Everything Sunny All the Time called me to tell me she found someone else to be a better friend to her than I could be, and that she didn’t want to talk to me anymore.
- I enjoy watching 16 & Pregnant while I clean out litter boxes. (16 & Pregnant!)
- If I have the merest twinge of a new sensation anywhere in my body, I internet diagnose myself promptly, usually with a brain tumor. Then I email my friends and family to tell them.
I am completely reluctant to post this—I”m so ashamed of the above facts.
But why? They’re me, and they’re not [really] harmful, so what’s so awful about admitting to them? Other than poking holes in the picture I try to build of myself in my own mind. But maybe that picture can be a little closer to reality.
In the next post I will detail what is literally the worst and most shameful thing about me. You’re excited to hear it, I know!
Here’s a hint: