Damn… This is hitting hard… I have friends that have homes that look like model homes. Everything is so PERFECT.. Years ago Greg Mead and I used to go to a group gathering and I always felt like the owners spent more time shopping and decorating the house that they did actually interacting with people. It was gorgeous and immaculate and … well, I never, ever relaxed… I didn’t make friends there and didn’t connect with anyone. I dreaded going and couldn’t wait to leave.
It was a difficult time in my life and in my marriage and going to that house with those people just made me feel…. Like I didn’t belong, uncomfortable in my own skin.

I put up walls and pulled on a mask and every week, Greg and I would argue on the way there and again on the way home but while we were actually there.. we held hands and we acted like everything was lovey -dovey.

It was bullshit.

I will be real here . It’s taken me a long time to own the skin I’m in and the house I have.

But you know what? I really do love my house

It’s bright and colorful and it’s dirty…. Yes. Dirty… From the dogs that walk in from the the backyard.. from the bundles that leave popsicle sticks on the tile floor and the girls that leave Barbies under the couch. There’s usually half full coffee mugs in the bathroom and the trashcan is almost always overflowing.
I haven’t invitef anyone over in years… Comparing and waiting.. until we get a bigger couch or finish the baseboard, or get more chairs….
It’s bullshit.

It’s an excuse.
A wall.
A barrier that keeps us from being who we really want to be.

Known and loved.
Bullshit and all.

writingmyheartout #Jeannasoul #myownwords