Confessional: Let Me Tell You a Little About Me…

So apparently blogger confessionals are a thing, and I’ve been asked to write mine Wish I had some truly titillating things for you,  but unfortunately, I don’t.  I’ve adventured across the world and lived a lot, but don’t have any sordid tales to tell.  I could make some stuff up for the sake of entertainment, but I’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon in the garden with a glass of prosecco….

I started this out thinking that writing about my weaknesses might be easier than writing those “tell me what’s great about yourself” essays we used to have to do in school.  Sure, some people have no problem writing their own accolades….but I wasn’t (and still am not) one of them. Apparently, I don’t know where to begin when it comes to writing about the “other” stuff either! 

However, I did promise to do this….so here goes nothing…..*cringe*….

I think I’ve touched on a couple of my character defects in other posts, like the fact that I am obsessive about my house being clean (but I don’t see that as a problem haha!).  I really am crazy about that though. My house has to be in order and clean at all times, otherwise I feel uncomfortable and antsy. 

So, I do a deep clean every week and everything just gets put away where it belongs. Always.  No crumbs on the kitchen counter, no hair on the floor, no dishes in the sink. I can be blown over by the runs or a flu and still be found scrubbing stuff. Nuts. I already know.

I don’t care how other people keep their homes, and to be honest, don’t even notice….but my own house has to be “just so”.  Otherwise, I’m in a bad mood. The house I live in is a tiny little granny cottage, but the floors are old and stained no matter what I do. I am in a constant state of low grade anxiety because of that….but coffee and wine help on most days.

I’m impatient. I don’t like waiting for things to happen. I don’t like walking behind slow groups of people. Traffic makes my blood pressure skyrocket. I’m really hard on myself if I don’t get things done the right way, right away.

I’m stingy with myself.  Even before living on a single mom budget, when I was making a decent living, I rarely if ever treated myself to anything “nice”. I just never really felt compelled to…or maybe couldn’t justify it.  I don’t own anything name brand unless it’s been gifted to me. 

Outside of getting my hair and nails done on set for bookings, I’ve only had a professional manicure and pedicure done a grand total of 5 times in the 4 decades I’ve been alive.  I go to a salon to get my hair cut once a year or once every other year.  I don’t get massages or go to spas, unless my aunt forces me to go….I think she cares about me more than I care about myself.

I’m hypercritical of myself. I know I do a lot yet never feel like I do enough. I’m forever reading books and articles on how to be a better mom, better writer, better health advocate, better woman. I research everything. Stones never get left unturned. Which is maybe why I don’t get as much sleep as I should….and which is why I pray at the Church of the Java Gods every single morning.

I’m a major work-in-progess when it comes to scarcity mindset revolving around money.  I grew up with very little money which has made me hyper-responsible when it comes to spending, but also in many ways (if I dig deep) I know this has to do with my fear of not having enough and perhaps not feeling worth having everything I need/want.

I’m an incurable romantic who does believe that true love can conquer anything. I am guarded and careful with who I allow into my inner circle.  Sometimes too careful.

My heart is the weakest part of my body and breaks easily. I’m a sensitive sap of a woman, despite the “strength” everyone sees in me.

I’m an extroverted introvert.

I have wild, unruly hair that never, ever does what I want it to do.

I’m a huge dork with a penchant for walking into things.

I think Instagram eyebrows are a crime, and Snapchat filters make me weep for humanity.

I never stop missing all of the places I’ve been to and all of the people I’ve met and believe all of it and all of them have changed me profoundly.

I have razor sharp intuition and can tell right away if a person or place is good or not. I’ve yet to be wrong.  This could be seen as a positive, but it can cause me a lot of anxiety….so maybe ignorance is bliss when it comes to your gut instincts? I don’t know.

I love food, a lot.  Again, not something I think is a defect, but I tend to stray from healthy eating more than I should. Because tacos. And cheesecake.  I tried to cut out meat when I was in high school, but failed miserably at being a vegetarian.  Bacon. That’s all I have to say about that.  I have close friends who are vegan, my aunt and boyfriend are pescetarians, but we all coexist without issues.  They respect my omnivorous nature, I respect their herbivorous one. And…I get to eat bacon!

I consider myself open minded and extremely tolerant….unless it comes to people who do not understand the concept of loyalty or honesty, people who abuse children, animals, or the elderly….or anyone else cruel of heart.  I also have a thing or two to say to people who can’t take responsibility for their actions, who are entitled, and/or manipulative. 

Narcissists get no love from me.  Once someone shows me they are any of the above, I politely yet firmly cut them out of my life. No second chances. No explanations listened to. I had to learn to set boundaries the hard way…but better late than never.

I have a penchant for overthinking.  I think this is a remnant from my childhood, because I felt so responsible for the well being of certain people in my family.  Always on guard and ready to find solutions. My fight or flight gets triggered easily because of this which ain’t fun, and I feel things more deeply than I wish I did.

I also can’t give up coffee. Ever.

….and that’s pretty much it.

Come to think of it, I do have some stories from my days on the road as a model….but I’ll save those for another time. Not confessions, but wild and crazy tales…..of peacocks on leashes, and jumping off of bridges in Italy.  So, how many Hail Marys do I need to say now?

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