Talking with my sister, Terresa, the other day sparked a question in my mind. How many of us write about the underbelly of our lives? the real stuff? the bad stuff? the embarrassing stuff?
Terresa is brave that way. She has written about stretch marks, hemorrhoids, screaming children, losing her temper, and diarrhea. Not me. Nope. I write about the good while avoiding the negative at all costs. I see and hear so many sad things at school I’m usually compelled to put forth good things into the blogging world. Who would want to know about my imperfections anyway? I don’t even want to know about my imperfections. Besides, who really cares? No offense to my sis, but who would it benefit?
My marriage isn’t perfect. It’s better than any relationship I’ve ever been in, but it’s not perfect. I don’t expect perfect. We’re not perfect people. I’m okay with that and working on being a better person for my husband and marriage.
I’m not perfect. I yell about once a day---at my students or my kids or both. I’m really not much of a yeller, but I expect to be heard. I only raise my voice when I need to. At times I struggle with being one of the shortest and smallest people in my classroom and in my home and wish I were 6 feet tall so that I could use height as an intimidation factor. I also admit that cuss words have escaped out of my mouth once or twice at home. Not the end of the world, (ye without sin cast the first stone) but I’m working on it.
Well, (sigh), that’s about it. My dirty laundry has been aired. It feels good to share. I feel lighter! Braver! Feel free to unload your dirty laundry here. No judging will occur (at least from me!) After all, no one’s perfect.