Some Things Are Better Kept to Yourself

Before I begin, let me say - Yippee!  I am excited to be having a little Ladies Night at my house for some of my neighbors.  I've made something yummy to share!  Looking forward to later girls!  Hhheeeeeeeyyyyyy. . .

Also, I am a bit distracted as I write this because the Jman is behind me running in circles and playing his little electric guitar.  So if all of a sudden, I start typing, "Hey now, you're a rock star. . ." it's because it's one of the songs his guitar plays.  It also plays "Message in a Bottle", "Love Shack", "Wild Thing", and I forget what else.  Love that guitar.  And don't judge me because I am on my blog while my kid is running around behind me.  I can't play with him every single minute!  I would hope by now my four year old could amuse himself for at least a little while!

SO.  I have started and stopped this post about a hundred times.  In fact, I have another draft of it saved.  I had an interesting conversation with my friend Sabrina last night about myself and the conversation became somewhat of an epiphany moment for me.  However, I keep stopping myself from posting it.

Why, you ask?  I am not sure.  Is it that part of me is still processing what we discussed?  That I am still thinking about my epiphany?  Maybe.  I had titled it something along the lines of "I'm Not so Scared of Me Anymore".  And as I was reading back over it, I just thought, "Nope.  Can't go there yet."  So then I just saved it, because I had actually written quite a lot, and I thought I might be able to go back and figure out why I didn't want to post it.

Maybe I find it too personal.  Or too revealing.  I mean, you don't have to know every thought that is in my head, do you?  Especially when it is about me, and who I am and stuff.  You might not even want to know, right? 

I thought when I first started writing on my blog that I would really be able to write about truly anything at all.  But I realize now, that there are things that still need to be kept inside of me.  Or at least in a journal that I can hide away for no one else to see.  (Jamey don't look for one, because there isn't one.  It's just a thought that happened to pop out on this post at this very moment.)  That's not really bad though, right?  I mean no one is a complete, open book are they? 

I look at people sometimes and I think that they must be just about perfect.  They seem to have it all.  They have great spouses, great families, great kids, great houses that are decorated much cuter than mine, they all look really great and pretty and perfect.  But I bet that really, if I asked them, they would say they have stuff inside that they don't share with anyone either.  Not that I would want to know what that stuff is (OK, let's be honest here,  I would be curious.  I can't help it.  I am a curious creature.)  (And by the way, I just love the word creature.  I wonder why?)

I am finally beginning to live a life where I realize we are all, to some degree messed up people.  That's being a human being.  I look at those same people and I have to remind myself that none of us are perfect.  That I am not (I love this term) "terminally unique".  Meaning there are other people who are maybe a little broken and not perfect.  And thank goodness for that.  The more I realize that, the better I feel.  Not like, oh so ha ha, you aren't perfect.  But more like, oh, but thank goodness it isn't just me.  I don't have to be perfect, and neither do you.  I just have to be me, and learn to be happy with me wherever I am at in my journey.  And so it's OK for me to not share my epiphany about myself if I don't want to.  It's just nice to recognize there has been some growth along the journey.  Maybe I will share it all with you one day.  But for now it's OK to keep that to myself.