what you don't see...

I've hesitated in writing this the last few days -- but I can't get it off my mind.

Inspiration here and here.

What you don't see when I post pictures of me is that it took me 30 pictures to find one I actually liked because I have a hard time seeing me in them sometimes. Or seeing the me I still want to be. That all I see are too short eyelashes, the zit on my forehead, a double chin in this one, a wrinkle in that one, or evidence of my bad hair day in the other one.

What you don't see is that when I say my life is crazy are the times I hide in my office bathroom sobbing because I'm not quite sure what to do with my life or how to deal.

What you don't see when I post adorable stories about my boyfriend are the worries I have that I'm the worst girlfriend in the world, how I worry that we're the only couple whose ever argued {especially over something stupid), how I wish we could just runaway for a little bit to spend work-free time together, or the nights I fall asleep in his sweatshirt because I'm lonely.

What you don't see when I post about a new jacket, or haircut, or something is the fear I have afterward that I made a bad decision in spending that much money on something because I make so little doing something I was supposed to love. How my doctor's bills give me a full fledged panic attack.

On my blog I told you my brother visited, I didn't tell you it was because I couldn't get any time off.

I told you I was homesick, I didn't tell you how sometimes I miss my family so much my heart actually aches.

I told you I had weekend plans with friends, I didn't tell you I'm often really lonely.

I told you I stayed at home for some alone time, I didn't say it was to do chores, or because my anxiety gets the best of me a lot lately and leaves me crippled in my bed.

I told you I got a cute new bookcase, but I didn't tell you I had to maneuver it through piles of laundry that have been there for weeks. {yes, weeks.}

There are times I look at other people's worlds thinking, wow, she/they really have their act together. They never fight, their house is always spotless, she's instantly trim and fit, she's so fashionable, she buys all the best shoes/clothes or takes the best trips, and I sigh thinking about how shabby my life is in comparisson.

What I need to remind myself is there probably are arguments, frustrations and even fights. There probably are dirty dishes in the sink sometimes or laundry yet to be folded. There probably are times she goes to work out, or doesn't eat something that she really wants to -- because she, too, is self-conscious of her figure. And there are (even more likely) times she scrimps, saves, or works overtime to afford the nice things, the trips, the retail therapy.

I need to remember there are always things we don't see -- and that though I see my faults, my lacks, my problems in GLARING light -- she probably sees hers that way, too.