“No you’re not, dude, don’t lie.”
I used to wonder when I would feel like when I finally became a significant blogger. I had no idea that just any little no-one can have a stalker that tries to ruin their life. All I can figure is that this person thinks I’m so awesome, they are overcome with jealousy and have to try to bring me down. Let me fill you in on exactly how awesome I am.
I was married at 19 years old to a man I met on the internet, and divorced by 23. Good choices.
I left my family and country behind because I thought I was making ‘good choices’ for myself. I suffer from loneliness and homesickness every single day. I live THOUSANDS of miles from anyone that loves me. Who needs family?
My best friend and I didn’t talk for nearly two years because of my previous marriage. Throw away the friends you’ve got.
I have suffered on and off with various image and eating disorders since I decided in 11th grade that I was fat. I allow my weight to hover somewhere around dangerously-low, because I feel better about myself that way. Shit, that’s healthy.
I wanted a baby more than anything in the world for as long as I could remember. As soon as I had one, I realized I had no idea what I was getting into. I prepared myself well for life.
I talk too much. To everyone. To anyone. I have never met a stranger, and I annoy the shit out of some people. It usually hurts to realize that people would rather you’re not around. I know it, can’t change it.
I have a destructive impulse to correct people. When someone says something or does something wrong, I will inevitably point it out. I have been trying to curb this impulse for YEARS, and have seen only marginal improvements. No one likes a know-it-all.
My mom has a beautiful voice. I can’t sing.
I took dance religiously for years. I can’t dance.
I battle depression again and again when I feel alone, isolated, out of touch. I use my blog and twitter to grasp on to threads of connection. Surrounded by people, and lonely.
My wardrobe consists of every outfit I purchased during my break-up and divorce phase when I spent whatever I wanted… and nothing since then. The coolest clothes I have are maternity clothes, because they were given to me. Not a fashonista.
Of all of the friends I have made since moving to Charlotte, I somehow find a way to not hold up my end of the bargain. Short of losing friends, I lose the closeness I desire, and end up feeling lonely, wishing I had someone I was close to. Who doesn’t know how to make friends?
I gave up a job I loved to work a schedule that would allow me to stay home with my son. Now, that schedule drains the life out of me, and I can hardly handle my basic obligations – like housework and laundry. So… I decided to have another kid. Brilliant logic.
I don’t do my hair. I don’t wear makeup. I can’t be bothered to accessorize. I’m lazy? Or just plain useless.
I suffer from hemorrhoids. Yup, I said it. I have been battling constipation and poop problems for nearly 2 years now. TMI? Whatever.
I am a horrible housekeeper. I can’t keep a clean home to save my life. I attract clutter and dust and animal hair, and I’ve never EVER won the battle. I continually give up, only to try again and fail. My house usually disgusts ME.
Yes. I’m sure if I sit here all day, I can continue to find things about myself that are less than awesome. I could probably fill a book.
But here’s what’s real:
I am a good tech. I care about my studies, and I care about my patients. My work holds up.
I write. I love to write. Some people love to read what I write. It’s as much a part of my life as breathing, and I can’t give that up.
I’m honest. I’m genuine. I care (usually too much) about people. I get hurt easily.
I do the very best I know how with my son. I may not be the best mom in the world, but I am the best mom to him that I can be. I believe that with all of my heart, and I don’t let others attempt to convince me otherwise.
I have made bad decisions in my life, but I am living my life to the fullest despite the past.
I have a wonderful husband, and an amazing, loving, supportive family.
I am just a person. Not worthy of idolization, but honestly… not deserving of hate or derision. I think it takes effort to find something about me worth actually disliking… and I’m not worth that effort.
Why would you make the effort?
