It's hard for me to be a friend.
There. I said it. Now you know the truth.
Recently I was in Disney World. At the same time Amy, another fabulous blogger, was at Disney World. We both knew for months that we would be going at the same time. We kind of skirted around it a bit and then right before we left Amy emailed me and gave me her cell phone number and asked me to call if I wanted to meet up.
Do you read Amy's blog? If you don't, well, you should. Because she's funny and bright and cute as can be (as well as being my weight-loss hero) and seems like a buttload of fun to be around. And her two little girls are so freaking cute it almost makes me want to la-la. In short, she seems like a person that I would really want to be good friends with.
Which? Is why I couldn't call her.
Because if I called her? She would know that really, I'm not that cool. I'm overweight and unattractive and just a stupid loser. And then she wouldn't like me anymore and I would be sad. Because at least she liked me on the internet.
After the trip I realized I'm going to have to come to a point in my life where I stop being so afraid. Some things don't scare me at all. We moved to Tennessee (and bought a freaking house! After seeing it ONE TIME!) with only a few thousand dollars in the bank and no jobs, confident that it would all work out okay. I took the job I have now, knowing that it was "temporary" and technically they could have booted me out on the street a couple of months after I got there. That was in May of 2005 and they seem to want to keep me around. In work situations I will introduce myself with confidence and show equal confidence to ask the questions for which I don't know the answers. None of that scares me.
Yet. I'm terrified to let people in "real life" get to know the "real me".
It's funny. I started blogging because I wanted to be myself. All day long I feel like I have to be somebody else. While I'm working I have to do things like act right and wear shoes. (Although recently? I've not done well with the "acting right" portion) At Girl Scouts? I can't tell those girls, "Your brother is in in jail because he didn't turn out and I want you to turn out." I have to be quiet and polite and calm. In reality? I'm none of those things. I have to deal with my birth family and all the conflicting emotions surrounding them, and pretend that everything is just fine, even when it isn't.
This blog was my chance to be who I really am. Nothing here is fake. I am honest about the fact that I'm a huge flake. I'm upfront about my excessive cursing and questionable parenting skills. I am the first to admit my marriage isn't a fairy-tale, but in fact something I have to work very hard at. Nothing here is fake, at all. In fact? Sometimes what is here is way more painfully honest than what I live every single day.
So I don't know I'm having such a disconnect between the two. I know the people who read this blog are real. I know the people who send me emails and cards and mail are real. I know that I am real and what I am saying is real.
I just don't know why it's so scary to think that people like me.
The real me.