Earlier this month, Lauren of Wearing History wrote her post on Social Media and the Myth of Perfection, and it started a tidal wave. Her post (as well as several other posts written by some of the bloggers I follow) hit home on many levels for me. I have thought long and hard on whether or not I wanted to participate. I will admit that I have secretly thought things like “I wish my house looked that good”, “I wish I was that talented”, or “I wish I could afford that for my costumes”. While I do have a small bit of costuming envy, I think all of the costume blogs that I read help to inspire and motivate me, to help me strive to better my own talents. On the other hand, I think I can honestly say that I’m sure no one has ever looked an my poor little blog and thought those things. lol. Granted, I don’t share everything, but I don’t think I have problems sharing the things that I deem okay for public consumption, like my costuming mistakes and blunders, or sharing a bit of the sadness that does touch my life. In fact, I posted just last week about the passing of one of my favorite cousins, and in the past I have posted about the unfortunate passing of my fur babies.
While I posted about losing my little ones, I didn’t share the grief that had me in tears for months anytime I saw something that reminded me of them, or that I cried myself to sleep every single night for weeks after they passed. I have also even posted about my vehicles dropping dead on me on the side of the freeway. What I didn’t post about was the stress of waiting to be towed in morning rush hour while sitting on the side of a very busy ramp, the scrambles to try to find another vehicle so I can make sure I make it to my daily 9 to 5, all while trying to figure out what I could cut out of the household budget to make sure I could afford a car payment after several years of not having one.
What I don’t post about, at all, are all of the daily stresses of work and home life. Like how I am the only female in my office, or dealing with a mouthy teenager with uber attitude issues (first with the oldest and now the youngest), a forgetful husband, a dog that has sever allergic reactions to fleas (he’s blond and sheds year round on my dark eggplant colored carpet, my vacuum cleaner gets a daily work), an elderly dog I inherited from my grandmother that I am now facing the fact that I may have to have put to sleep because of medical conditions that I can’t afford to treat, and even if I could, she may not survive, or my struggles with mild depression. These are the things I feel don’t need to be posted anywhere, because they are mine to deal with. You know, the messy parts of my life I like to keep hidden behind a door. For me to go beyond kvetching about them to my mother or best friends seems mortifying and unacceptable. So, this paragraph will be as close as I ever get to posting about any of it. lol. About the only other messy thing that I may post about will be the long abandoned sewing room that Jane has seen fit to have a few parties in, and not clean up behind herself. 😉 I will be trying to get down there soon, as I have very big plans for that room.