I keep dreaming of the day I'll be able to portray myself as this flawless, ever-confident business mogul who never cries, never fears, never 'gives in' to the way biology made her. Who never succumbs to fatigue, depression, or agoraphobia.
But that's not me. Right now I feel I couldn't be further from it.
This is what I was thinking about moments ago, when I ashamedly retreated to the house after 30 seconds outside. I was terrified of slipping on the ice which I hadn't realized had formed overnight.
Most people dislike icy sidewalks, just like most people don't enjoy needles or spiders or colds; but then, most people's hearts don't start racing at the thought of these things, their hands going clammy, their chest feeling tight, their vision blurry, feeling they're dying.
Most people don't have phobias.
But what about those of us who do?
Maybe I should be content to bare all, even the parts that embarrass me, scare me or exhaust me (like my chronic illnesses). I try to be honest and open here, but sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I want to be perfect. Don't most people?
