I feel as bloggers, we act like we have our shit together. We sugar coat, presenting perfect lives with flawless homes, immaculate wardrobes, well-behaved children, and gourmet meals prepared nightly. The filtered lives we portray on instagram inherently carry over to our blogs. Each time we write a raw and real personal post, we edit it, let it sit in drafts for months, or flat out delete it for fear of judgement and embarrassment. We are likely not telling the full story.
Casey sums it up beautifully: As bloggers, we tend to only show the best sides of ourselves. We’re really good at shooting love and rainbows straight through your computer screen, making you think we haven’t a care in the world, our marriages are perfect, and that our hair is always tame & shiny (hint: it’s not). Sometimes I feel like blogs are joy ninjas…karate chopping a chunk of happiness away from everyone who clicks through.”
Back in the day, I hosted a Secrets on a Sunday series where readers could anonymously share anything and everything they felt the need to get off their chest. Each round, I shared a secret of my own in the comments. Due to an influx of spam comments, unfortunately I had to discontinue the series. Today I have decided to share without hiding behind this anonymity.
I like to keep this space as positive as possible. We can get enough negative coverage by simply flipping on the evening news, am I right? I try my best to be transparent and open with my readers, even when light-hearted posts are the easy way out.
Vulnerability is a scary thing. The moment you pour your heart out, is the moment you open yourself to criticism. I have a lot that has not been shared on here, that I am ready to release. So here it goes, the real me. No filter.
I battle major anxiety.It’s a daily struggle. My nights frequently consist of my mind racing instead of sleeping. I overanalyze every situation, anticipating anything that could possibly go wrong and every worst case scenario, so when things do go well, am pleasantly surprised. I had a difficult time studying in college because I could not bring myself to focus on the topic at hand. I lash out at undeserving people sometimes because I’m irritated and on edge. I have tried a variety of meds to balance my anxiety out. This one works to an extent, but I hate the feeling that I’m reliant on a drug and can’t go au natural. Trust me, I tried last fall and was a stressed mess. I wish I knew how to relax. To just breathe.
Addiction runs in my family and I’m scared it will become me.My father is an alcoholic and so was my great-grandfather. My brother, an addict of other things. They say the gene runs in families. When I begin drinking alcohol and do not stop at two drinks (which is often the case), I worry for myself. I know I have the willpower to not let it turn into a problem, but the thought is always lurking in the corner of my mind. I am scared to have children of my own one day, who will be susceptible to this predisposition for addiction. I do not want them to suffer as I have seen so many of my loved ones do.
There is only one person in this world I feel I can trust with my life.It can be very difficult to break down my walls, and truly get close to me. I know this stems from being let down by every significant male figure in my life. My mother has been there for me through thick and thin. I know she would never in a million years let me down.
I am extraordinarily hard on myself.My perfectionism can be debilitating at times. I am extremely indecisive for fear that I will make the wrong decision. Even in things as simple as which ice cream flavor and what to wear in the morning. (hint: there is likely no wrong decision)
I very rarely feel “beautiful.” And because of this, it’s very hard for me to accept compliments. I would almost rather people be critical of me. I look in the mirror and see scrawny chicken legs, a square jawline, and a zitty face. Perhaps the reason I ask other women to find the good in themselves with Operation Beautiful. I hate being skinny. Yep, you read that right. As hard as it is for the majority of the population to lose weight, it’s just as hard for me to gain it.
I wish I had more to offer this world.More time, more motivation, more influence. I wish I had nine lives, because I’m just not going to be able to conquer it all in this lifetime.
I’m unafraid to say any and everything that comes to mind.Unless it comes to feelings. Those are gross. I don’t realize how harsh I come off, and can unintentionally hurt peoples feelings by being blunt and straight-up. I need to learn to filter myself to ensure I remain professional in the workplace.
I get jealous of other bloggers. Those that seem to have perfect lives, perfect bodies, perfect children. The ones capable of working a 9 to 5, then come home to prepare a gourmet meal. Those that host five star parties in their immaculately clean designer homes. The ones with an endless wardrobe of LBD’s, sparkly shoes, and cross body bags. I ask myself, why can’t my life be so glamorous?
FOMO (fear of missing out) is also very real in the blogging world. When two of my favorite blogging superstars post a picture together of a night out, I feel depressed that I’m not joining in the fun!
I’m not afraid of dying.Really. If it’s meant to be. I kind of think it would be cool to see who cared enough to attend my funeral.
I’m not sure I know what true love is supposed to feel like.Okay, I’m only 22, so I suppose I’ve got many more years ahead of me to discover this. It’s weird, although I’ve been in 3 long term relationships where the word “love” was tossed around, I’m not sure it was actually genuine. I feel like when it is for real, I will just know. Edit since I first drafted this post: I may have found the real thing. How good that feels.
I don’t always practice what I preach. Or take the advice I dish out. I get on others for being a “product of their environment,” but have come to realize that this is true for myself at times as well. Even when I try to pretend it’s not, and I’m some saint-like being, we’re all human.
I wish I had more faith in my little brother’s desire to get better. I love him more than anything, but don’t trust that he has the gumption to do anything about his predicament. He’s content with where he is in life and has everything he needs, so why change? It pisses me off that he is not there for his baby. I thought Samuel would be his saving grace.
I despise change. Always have, always will. If I could plan out my entire life right now, I probably would. Surely part of my Type A personality. Take me out of my routine, I get anxious and moody. I am counting on the move to Australia to snap me out of this.
I can’t stand intolerant people.Racist and homophobic people in particular are a major turn-off to me. Keep your negative, narrow-minded thoughts to yourself, please.
I worry that I will never find my true passion in life.I feel like I am subpar to mediocre at a helluva lot of things. Feelings of inadequacy are abound and I worry about spreading myself too thin. I realized late in the game I can really hate the career path I chose. Can I just be a full time blogger, please?
I don’t want my real father to be the one to walk me down the aisle. He hasn’t been there for me. My step-father will be the one to do the honors.
I sometimes feel as if I’m sleepwalking through life.Stuck in the mundane. Just going through the motions day-to-day.
I binge eat late at night. I can remember nights my dad would come down at 3am to eat a jar of peanut butter, deli meats and cheeses, literally in his sleep. While I don’t do that, I do eat the majority of my calories after 6pm. It started in college when I wouldn’t have time for breakfast and would eat as much as I could at the buffets for lunch and dinner. I stuff myself to the brim at night. I often regret it in the morning and will feel sick to my stomach and not be able to eat until at least noon.
I’m scared to death to have children. I have a fear of being pregnant for 9 months, of pushing the baby out, of losing my freedom, of not being able to shed the extra pounds. I’m scared I will be a terrible mother if I want to go back to work and have to leave them with a nanny.
Some days I feel like I will be better off alone. There is something to be said about a long-term, serious relationship with one person you are bonkers about., but I am admittedly a bit of a commitment phobe. I’m afraid to get close to other people, afraid to leave myself vulnerable to disappointment. As soon as the going gets good, I back away from the relationship.
If you feel brave enough, I would love to have you join in sharing your heart. Please feel free to reach out with me if you are in the same boat with any of these admissions. I would love to help.