As a continuation of my previous post I would like to inform you, reader, that I was working on the side of my house this weekend. After only 10 or so minutes of working out there I looked down and had what looked to me to be small ticks all over my shirt, and some on my legs that I could feel pinching me. Jon thinks they were small spiders (I’m a city girl, ok? I don’t know anything about bugs). As soon as I realized this I screamed, brushed them all off of me and went running inside. I started yelling for my husband and began stripping all of my clothes off. Jon would have been into that until he realized that I was taking all of my clothes off to rid myself of potential critters. Over the next hour Jon had the blissful task of checking all of my body that could not be self-inspected for any rogue creatures. The joys of being married…and home ownership.
Unrelated and pretty much unfunny, I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be your authentic self. This actually started from the dumbest thing ever. I was watching a terrible show on Bravo called Miss Advised and this topic came up. I can’t speak for anyone else but it is something that I have struggled with my entire life. I think it has a lot to do with an incessant need to be wanted, liked, popular, etc. I also have a very conservative family, 3 of the members are my older siblings (I’m the beby) so I always wanted to be like them and therefore did not want to get made fun of by them (although that’s hilarious in my family since that’s all we do). I never wanted to disappoint my parents and so there have been things that I have kept hidden. I mean to most outsiders I would say that the things that I have hidden are not really that big of a deal but just things to keep my parents from getting upset.
I think that as I have gotten older, and honestly I would say a lot within the last few months, I’ve been trying to give up that fake, not real self, that I pretty much always have been. The thing that I have identified (and is sad at 27 that I’m just really starting to figure this out) is that people like my real self better than my fake self. It’s funny how people have some sense of the fakeness, whether they are cognizant of it or not. However, the problem is that I have trouble always determining what is the real vs. the not so real or the straight up just not real. I guess in short, I don’t really know who I am sometimes. I imagine this is just a part of being young(ish) but probably also has been contributed to by the fact that for most of my life I haven’t been myself.
I think that this blog, in part, is a piece of me owning who I am. I’m not really hiding anything here, as this is clearly a blog written as stream of consciousness for the most part. To take this a bit further though I’m about to list a few things that I am letting go and just owning. I’ll always be a WIP (work-in-progress or process for you non-business school people ha) so I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to share everything.
· I bite my nails a lot, especially when I’m anxious or excited about something. I’m trying to stop this b/c I like French manis and they don’t look as good when you have tiny fingernails.
· I have some sort of weird OCD-esque thing about paper. I can’t throw it away unless it has been used on both sides. It’s horribly annoying b/c I have this giant box of scrap paper because of it.
· I would like to have a better relationship with my family. We are close in a sense but we never hang out really unless it’s like an obligatory holiday or birthday party. I think I may be the only one who feels that way though because everyone else has kids and I think they are busy with them.
· I have two really weird fears, both of which I’m pretty sure I got from dateline or 20/20.
1. WARNING: K DO NOT READ THIS!! I have a fear that a snake is going to come up through the pipes and come out of a toilet in my house. I’m especially afraid of this at times when I’m actually using the restroom. :/
2. This is a bad one. One time I watched a story about a man who murdered his neighbors and he said that he did it in his sleep. I mean I logically know that this is absolutely crazy BUT people sleep eat, and sleep have sex and weird stuff like that. So, really, why couldn’t someone sleep murder? I have a fear that I am going to pick up a knife in my sleep and stab someone. I know this is insane.
· Sometimes I wonder if I have some mild form of depression. I especially feel it when I’m alone and bored but feel it somewhat during other times as well.
I feel the need to leave this on a positive note. I feel that with all of my craziness and silly self-reflection, I have a really good life. I honestly have THE best husband on the face of the planet and I have a really great family. It is nice to know I have help whenever I need it and that I have a lot of people to make fun of. J
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