raising the stakes...

I'm unsettled tonight. Jeff mentioned to me on the way home from a friend's house that he linked our pastor (the aforementioned Doug) to my Psalm, and this blog. Now I'm getting anxious, wondering who else knows I'm here! I never intended for this to be anonymous, really, but I never would have told anyone from the Porch about it either. Because I have a terrible time admitting imperfection or weakness. This may be the reason I don't have more close friends. I'm not good at confiding. Jeff has told me that I intimidate other moms, and while I'm not convinced that I really do, I have to admit it's possible. The face I show the world is as perfect as I can manage. I try to make my life look easy. Asking for help is not something I do. Admitting weakness is tantamount to admitting failure for me. When I had Gabe and Eva (two years ago this November), I should have called someone at church and asked for help. I should have called everyone in my family and asked for help. Did I? Of course not. If I had, I might have managed to nurse both of them- I think the major reason for my failure to get Eva breastfeeding was that I just had too much going on. Allie was not even two and a half when we brought them home. So now, we have to deal with a cow's milk allergy that might have been prevented, had I just humbled my pride and picked up the phone. By admitting my inability to deal with everything, I might have avoided failure. But instead, I chose to fail. That's one example, I have many others.

This is why I neglected to talk to anyone from church about my blog. Not because I'm embarassed that I have lots of emotional problems or trouble with emotional boundaries, per se, but because I'd rather lie than admit I'm imperfect. There. I said it. But if there is one thing I'm sick to death of, it is letting fear control me. I'm tired of trying to seem better and smarter and nicer than everyone else so they'll like me. Because the irony is, it isn't me they're liking at all, but the person I'm pretending to be. So at the end of the day, I'm more imprisoned than ever, because now I have to live up to what I've led them to believe about me. Or I can tell the truth, and risk everything.

I'm tired of living in fear.