Things I'm Afraid to Tell You

While perusing through my blog roll today, I read this post from Beth at Parsimonia.  It was inspired by this post, which apparently started somewhat of a blog trend to use today to disclose things about ourselves we may not normally share.  I debated, but figured, "why not?"  You can trust me completely when I say that what you read below is far from inclusive; but, in no particular order, here are 10 things I would not normally disclose:





Graphic from Creature Comforts Blog

While I thoroughly enjoy being a homemaker, not earning money to contribute to paying for my hobbies or our household expenses frequently makes me feel like a total loser.  I know Tug will chastise me for thinking such a thing (and has), but it's true.  I think about how well we would be doing financially if I were still working, about being able to afford all of the little things I'd like to buy; about not having to be jealous of others with greater means.  But occasionally, when common sense returns, I can temper these feelings by realizing that if I were still working we probably wouldn't have time together or energy to enjoy any of the luxuries we could afford.

Sometimes leaving my home causes me incredible anxiety.  Call it insecurity, borderline agoraphobia, whatever; some days I honestly just can't force myself out that door.  The bad thing about that is that it really doesn't bother me that much.  I'm content to label myself a "homebody".

I am insecure.  I have great difficulty accepting even the most sincere compliments and I am my own worst (and harshest) critic.  I think this is honestly the biggest reason (even more than financial) why I miss my previous job and working.  In my job, as crazy as it could make me, I was completely confident with who I was professionally and with my knowledge and skills.  Leaving that behind seriously decreased my confidence in myself.

Being in large groups of people, especially people I don't know, makes me want the earth to open up and swallow me.  Beyond that fact that I am an extremely sensitive, card-carrying introvert, I constantly feel like I'm being judged, but then think that it's really arrogant of me to think that so many people would bother themselves to judge me.  This usually leads to me finding a quiet corner in which to hide.  It's not that I don't want to talk to you; it's that I'm totally socially awkward.

I'm jealous of my skinny friends who wear fabulous clothes and look great in them.

Since I was about five years old, I declared that I didn't want to have children - and meant it.  There is a story behind that.  At about that age, I was in the surgical waiting room of a local hospital with my dad (I don't remember why, but it was apparently something minor).  In the hallway outside was a young woman lying on a gurney, SCREAMING repeatedly, "somebody help me; oh my God it hurts; I'm going to die" and a few other things I won't share for decency reasons.  I was terrified.  Finally a doctor stepped into the doorway and said, "it's her first" as though that explained everything.  I had to ask first what.  When I learned she was having a baby, I knew at that moment that I would never give birth.  I often wonder if it's a decision I will regret as I age.

Death scares me - in a totally unnatural way.

Follow through is a huge problem for me.  I cannot begin to count how many unfinished projects I have, how many hobbies have been started and then abandoned when the next one comes along.  I should probably try to sell some of the supplies from my abandoned craft endeavors - which would more than likely just fuel buying something else that would suffer the same fate.

I am a terrible housekeeper.  Our home is not dirty per se, but if you were to show up at my door unannounced you would more than likely find a fine layer of dust on nearly everything, cobwebs in corners and the floors needing to be cleaned.  Growing up, I didn't have a great example of good housekeeping skills.  I am trying to improve.

While baking is my passion and my therapy, it's also my nemesis.  I need to learn to eat less of what I make.  That would be easier if I weren't so afraid to leave my house and take things I've made to other people so that they can judge what I've made.  (That's only slightly tongue in cheek, by the way.)

I think that's enough catharsis for today.  Any more and I'll feel the need to pay anyone reading this therapist's fees.