We all spend hours online depicting our lives as we would like them to be perceived. We have a tendency to show only what we think will be interesting, inspiring, beautiful. We edit our pictures and our words before we post them on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram.... We create boards on Pinterest depicting our dream homes, vacations, and wardrobes. Yet, real life is far from utopian. We aren't all airbrushed models, married to perfect husbands, living in spacious homes on the beach, decorated with souvenirs of our travels to exotic locations, shopping in luxury boutiques, dining in style and never gaining a pound. After reading this article by Jess Constable, Ez Pudewa of Creature Comforts issued a challenge to bloggers to write about things we are afraid to share, to write just one brutally honest post...
OK, here goes:
I was adopted when I was a year old. It irritates me that people assume I don't know who I am because I don't know my biological parents. Life is not an after-school special. I have no desire to “find my real parents." My “real parents” are Bob and Kay Larson.
I read magazines while drying my hair (Sailing, InStyle, Real Simple, Milwaukee Magazine).
I believe in “a place for everything and everything in its place," but I still need a junk drawer.
My dad passed away on Sept. 18, 1996 of mesothelioma. He was exposed to asbestos as ship’s electrician on the U.S.S. Salt Lake City during WWII. He never regretted his service to our country. I miss my dad everyday. I wish my husband could have known my dad. They would have enjoyed each other’s company.
Even though I speak and teach French, I am very proud to be an American. Patriotic music makes me teary, and it bothers me when students don’t recite the Pledge of Allegiance or are disrespectful during the National Anthem.
I am willing to share my ideas and resources with colleagues, but I resent it when people take advantage of my kindness.
I have size 5.5 flat feet, but I walk better in high heels.
I stayed in for recess in 4th grade because my cursive letters weren’t slanting in the right direction. Now I have beautiful penmanship, but I rarely write.
My heart melts when Alec and Chase call me “Auntie”. I love them so much! Even though I appear strong and secure in the reality that I will never be able have children, sometimes I still feel that something is missing. Being adopted, I know what a gift it is to adopt a child, but I also feel selfish knowing that I am content with my life as it is. (Whew...that was a tough one!)
I have a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Shaun Cassidy in my basement. I got him when I was 11. I say “hello” to him every time I go downstairs.
I am a terrible sleeper. I play word games in my head until I fall asleep, and I never sleep through the night.
I can’t eat cake and ice cream on the same plate. The ice cream makes the cake soggy. PS: I prefer cherry pie.
I love sailing and spending summer weekends on our boat (Sail la Vie). People often think of sailing as a peaceful, relaxing way to enjoy nature, but I sometimes pray for storms to avoid my fear of our "fluky" Lake Michigan wind and waves. I am both excited and terrified by the idea of sailing off into the sunset someday.
I envy people who can run for fun, sing, and play the piano.