There are approximately 15 blogs that I follow regularly. I enjoy reading them, but at times, they make me feel bad about not only myself but our home life. Am I the only one who gets annoyed with blogs that are ALWAYS so upbeat? I wonder if these particular people EVER have a bad day. Do you EVER trip over your own two feet and fall flat on your face like I do? Does your house EVER have ANYTHING out of place? Do you ever cry? Worse yet, do you ever bawl? Do you ever get mad? Are there times that you cant stand being in the same room as your husband?
I will tell you flat out, I am nowhere near perfect. I know that no one is. But there are people who show the world through their websites or blogs that they do no wrong. They feel no sense of pain or disappointment. To me, that’s not real life. At least, that’s not MY real life.
I have friends from high school that I have reconnected with through Facebook. They were not necessarily my best friends but people I enjoyed being with and going out with. I usually hung out with two of my friends, Rachel and Tina. I always felt like the ugly duckling in the group. They were (still are) so beautiful, wore all the best clothes, were very popular, thin, had boyfriends, etc. There was a sweet gal named Brenda that signed up with us three to do kickboxing every week. Rachel’s boyfriend (so handsome!) was the U.S. Champ in kickboxing, and we trained with him as our leader (among a group of 10 other people.) We would take my big beast of a vehicle at the time (because we could all fit into the ’79 Ford LTD) and beat each other up for an hour a week. We had great times working out together, and fun afterwards going out for ice cream and just chatting.
I reconnected with Brenda on Facebook back in 2009, 10 years after graduating from High School. We started talking about life and what we’ve been up to, and she said something along the lines that out of us “3 Musketeers” (as we were called), I was her favorite. She said she never felt like she had to hide anything from me. She said that she could open up to me because she knew I could relate to her so much better than the other two ever could, and that I was more REAL than my other two friends. Oh, and did I mention that I can keep a secret with the best of ‘em?
My friend here at work (who is in her mid-50’s,) has told me more about her life than she’s told her best friend of nearly 40 years. I know her deepest, darkest secrets that her best friend doesn’t even know about. I am honored that she trusted me with them.