My Least Favorite Game

Good friends are the ones who make us take pause. They are the ones who make us think about the things we'd rather bury outside in the yard, away from the safety of our covers. I've got a handful of friends who know me inside and out. All it takes is two syllables out of my mouth and they know how I'm feeling - regardless of my "I'm fine" sentiments. Sometimes people like this make us squirm and want to close all the doors... at least they do that to me. But these are the most important people to have in your life. They make you realize what you have and what you want. They force you to face reality, when all you really want is to reverse time and try your hand at being 6 again.
For the record, I think I'd make a really great 6-year-old.

. . .

I was talking to an old friend tonight. We went through all the usual babble: the weather here vs there, how our days were, how different friends and family members are, etc. Then we played the game that kills me every.single.time. It start innocent enough.

His question: Do your socks match today? They never match... except today they actually did. I know you were all wondering. His matched too, for the record, but that's because mismatched socks bother him.
My question: Latest bruise and how'd you get it? To understand this question you must understand something -- we are both absolute klutzes. The difference, I never remember where the bruises come from.
His question: Last person you said "I love you" to? In person. I say it numerous times a day, usually to my kiddos. But I think the last person was Ms. Annette - I'd be lost without her.
We can skip my next question because like I said, the game started innocent enough. Then came this next one.
His question: Do any of those people even really know you? I stopped. Literally tripped over my words, as I told him that "yes, of course they know me!" I could feel his blank, knowing stare through the phone...

. . .

Here's the thing about me. I'm actually a very private person. I don't give details about my life to just anyone. I guess that seems a little hypocritical considering this blog and everything -- hello public world, it's nice to see you.
But in all honesty, I can count on one hand err two fingers the number of people who know everything about me. I just don't believe that everyone needs to know everything. A little anonymity is good for a friendship, or so I like to think.

Let me put it this way: think back to something really stupid, embarrassing, depressing, scary, etc. Something you wish you never had to think about again. Something from your past that you wish would just go away. We all have at least one. I've got multiple. And if you don't have one, please message me so I can learn all about your picture perfect life. kthanks. Anyway, now that you're thinking about this wonderful (sense my sarcasm) memory, think about the number of people you have shared it with. I'm assuming it's a pretty small number. There are two people who know all those moments of mine. And two is where I'm pretty happy leaving that number.

The past is certainly something we are meant to learn from. But I believe that we can learn from and move away from it at the same time. The past doesn't have to define the future; it doesn't get to dictate what happens next. In this regard, the people we meet now (and in the future) don't necessarily need to know everything about our pasts.

. . .

Who I am today, in North Carolina, is not the same girl I was a year and a half ago in Pennsylvania. We grow up and we evolve into the person we are meant to be. I get to be whoever I want to be. When I first moved, that was one of the most freeing aspects of it all. It was like my life was a blank canvas and I got to make all my decisions over again.

So when asked, "Do those people really know you?" My answer is still yes, they know who I am. They know who I have become in the last year and half. They know the girl that I've let North Carolina mold me into. I can say for a fact that without my friends here and without the experiences that they have provided for me, I wouldn't be the same person I am today.

. . .

I will always be the girl who is too emotional for someone's liking. I will always be the girl who cares too much about too many things. I will always be the girl who drops everything for her family. I will always be the girl who hides way too much from way too many. And I will always be the girl who writes about it for the world to see -- even though she is incredibly private. It may not make sense to everyone, or anyone for that matter, but I won't change it because that's who I am.

To all my friends and family, thanks for loving me through my hard times and the easy ones. I couldn't do this without you.


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