THANK YOU for all the feedback on my post Monday. I think we have a good debate on our hands, ladies. I’m breaking my normal schedule this week but sometimes you feel inspired, right?
I struggle with authenticity here: how much do I really want (and need) to share? But I crave authenticity and openness in others. I think we all need that connection.
Yesterday Taylor from The Daily Tay shared a fabulous post and asked readers to share their most embarrassing confessions. Not only did the post give me a much-needed laugh (seriously. read it) but it made me feel connected to a group of women I don’t know. I want to be friends with these women!
I think we spend a lot of our time trying to give the illusion that we live a perfect life: we share perfectly-posed Instagram pictures, stock photos, posts that come after a lot of research, time, and thought. We stick with the illusion in our real lives, too. We tell people we’re fine, keep our heads down, and go about our day. Do our spouses, family, and friends always know what’s in our heart and minds? It’s easier to live this way, and I admit to not being the most vulnerable person on earth.
But Taylor’s post was refreshing! Does anything break the ice more than an “I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time” story? Isn’t it nice to know that we’re not alone in embarrassing, horrible moments? It makes these situations easier to bear. It makes everyone real and vulnerable and human and beautiful.
One of the things I’ve come to love about blogging is the sense that I’m NOT alone: we all struggle with our careers, money, relationships, or health. Maybe it’s all of the above. We don’t live perfect lives and there’s an overwhelming sense of solidarity- if I’m going through it, I bet I’m not alone. I look forward to sharing more of my story and reading more of yours.
We all have a story that makes us who we are, a story that propelled us to this exact moment in our lives. It’s not always easy or pretty.
To end on a fun note, I’ll share my most embarrassing moment; please no judgment:
Only two people know this happened and now I’m sharing it with the world. Before I moved in with J (and a few years into our relationship), I got incredibly sick. I was sick from Thanksgiving to Christmas and too stubborn to go to the doctor. I thought I could self-medicate my troubles away. WRONG. One night we had plans to watch movies at his house and I decided a little old-fashioned cough syrup might finally kick my sickness… so I washed down another handful of medicine with a hot toddy (I NOW REALIZE THIS WAS WRONG). Things get fuzzy after that, but, from what I can piece together from memory and J’s recounting, I ended up losing my mind. It snowed that night and I decided I wanted to take a walk around the neighborhood, sans shoes. And pants. He somehow coaxed me inside without drawing attention to the situation and without the cops being called. I guess I somehow snuck out of the house whilst changing into my pajamas (I assure you nothing sinister was going on). Needless to say, when I went to the doctor I was diagnosed with a terrible case of bronchitis, bordering pneumonia. I’m sure walking around the neighborhood pantless and afraid aided my recovery. Now every time it snows, J asks if I plan on taking any walks, then proceeds to hide the bourbon. I’m sorry, family.
What’s your story?