I am one of those people who systematically read the ingredients list of all products I buy, whether they are cosmetics, food or meds. The first reason is that there are a hundred things my body can’t take and will make me pay if I force them into my system. The other reason is that I love to make sure I know what I am using. This applies to people, too. I love getting to know people, but they don’t come with a list. Also, I love reading. That counts as reading, right?
Right this second, you must be wondering what the hell is happening and what kind of post this is. It’s a confession post. See, I had an epiphany. Actually, I have lots of them, but I swear this one is worth sharing.
Back to the confession now. I have been blogging for eight months. I have met the most awesome people. Bloggers that I admire, bloggers who make my TBR so long I will need two lifetimes to get to the end of it, bloggers who make me laugh. It all started with a shared love for books. Then you get to know some bloggers better, you take part in tags and share bits of yourself. Not actual bits because we all need all our bits to keep functioning, of course. All this information create your very own ingredient list. I can’t say what you would put on mine based on what I have revealed of myself (except that I’m a fantastic waffle maker) but there is one thing I am sure you would not write, and for a long time, I thought it did not matter. But it does. Because it is who I am.
I suffer from an anxiety disorder, agoraphobia, and mild depression. Spark insomnia on top and you have a little bomb. I’m a cute little red bomb (red for the hair, not the big button that will trigger the zombie apocalypse everyone has been talking about for weeks.)
This post is not about me complaining about how life can be unfair and hard (even though it sucks when it’s midnight and you’ve run out of Rum and all the shops are closed just when you need waffles again.) or beg for nice words to make me feel better.
I struck up real and adorable friendships around here, but I feel there’s always a wall between me and the rest of the world. That wall is made up of all the days I can’t get out of bed, or bring myself to read because I am too tired and my hair is unwashed but I can’t muster the courage to drag myself into the shower, the days I can’t apply to a job because I know there are times I won’t be able to leave the house, the excuses I make for not going out to get the latest book at the bookstore because it’s too far and too crowded, the lies about living an awesome and “normal” life. I am tired of hiding this huge part of me. If someone cannot handle me with all my craziness and my mental issues, then I can leave without them. But I can’t live without myself, so it’s time I accept it and stop lying to myself and others.
(The wonderful powers of a change of hair color and my lack of photography skills)
This whole epiphany was triggered by the wonderful book Furiously Happy, and while I am not as fun and awesome as Jenny Lawson, I admire her for talking about her problems, laughing at them, and being true to who she is. She inspired me and showed me the next step to making my life a little better, a little easier, was to stop feeling guilty about all the things I cannot do, and stop hiding who I am. So this is me, standing naked in front of the blogosphere with a Taylor Swift song in the background, saying loud and proud that it’s take it all or leave it (and close the door because it’s freezing).
(courtesy of Jenny Lawson on her blog )
Now that it’s in the open, I feel a lot better. Of course, it is easier to tell people from the Internet who can’t stare at me with that worried expression saying my issues might be contagious or that I’m merely exaggerating than to family and friends that can actually get all freaked out in front of me and make me feel terrible. But it was important to me that bloggers I talk to on a daily basis and new or old followers could get a real sense of who I am so that our relationship could be based on the truth. Thank you all for making me comfortable enough to talk about a subject I haven’t discussed with more than 2 people in the last five years.
No more lies, no more fears, from now on, you get the real me, and only the real me (now is time to run)
This is my 100th post (one to remember! or time to erase me from your reader) and the first step towards a new part of my life. I am feeling very drama-queen today. I thought the celebration could be more about appreciating my lovely bloggers, taking a weight of my shoulders, letting others know that they are not alone, rather than drinking to a number that only means I have stuck around enough to bore you with such posts!
I might talk about my issues in future posts. I am even considering featuring books that handle mental illnesses well (or not, so you’d know what to use as a good reference and what to burn). But today I just wanted you to meet the real me.
So, hi! I’m Donna, nice to meet you.