Keepin' it Real

I love blogging. I love sharing stories about my family because I think they are the greatest thing since sliced bread. They are my reason for living. I've been doing some extra reading of other blogs lately and the subject came up about keeping the blog real. So many bloggers are trying to make an extra buck or two from their blogs and, dude, I have no problem with that whatsoever. Plus, I'm not going to say that if I had the chance to make a buck or two from my own blog that I wouldn't jump at the chance. It hasn't happened for me as of yet and so I won't stress over it.  There are so many opinions out there as to what makes a blog a good read. Do you review products? Do you talk about all your problems? Do you just talk about kids and raising them? Do you have that something special that will make people want to visit you on a regular basis because you are just that flippin' cool? Eh, I'm clueless. I read what I read and enjoy it when I do.

My thoughts on a good blog are that you just keep it real. Don't talk about what you know nothing about. I am a full disclosure kind of gal. I'm not a private person who keeps every single thing to myself. I find it funny, too, because I come from a family that will keep every single thing close to their chests in the name of privacy. Maybe that's why I don't care? I grew up in a home where you keep everything within your four walls, never to let your troubles see the light of day. I adore my family and the ground they walk on, but I secretly laugh at them because you almost have to have a secret password and the key to Fort Knox in order to have a good conversation with them. ( I reckon it's not so secret anymore that I laugh at them now. Uh...I love you family and I'm laughing with you, not at you. (I hope that smooths it out, but I'm not too worried because it's not like they really read my blog.))

So, after reading some of recent blogs and their thoughts, I thought I'd share a few things that I haven't put on my blog. You know, to keep it real for me. It's all about me and just how crazy Miss Hope can be in her own mind.

Let's see where I can begin. Oh, yes, I have anxiety. Not super duper anxiety like my mother and oldest child. I've seen them go from zero to straight over the edge in a blink. I like to think I have a good control over mine with 10 mg of celexa every day. I can't take the full 20 mg that you start out with unless I want to lay on the couch all day in a stupor and sleep. Half of a tablet bringing it down to 10 mg is just right for me. I come from a long line of OCD people and I know I have great potential to let my anxiety control me. That's why I'm so glad I'm saved and that God is ultimately in control- not me. Have you ever watched those shows that are about OCD? I have and I want to cry because I can just see where they come from. One show was about a woman who would flip light switches X amount of times because if she didn't? She just knew something bad would happen to her child. I am a "bad case scenario" kind of person. My mind automatically goes to the worst thing that can possibly happen. The WORST thing you can come up with. Letting my child drive by herself the first time is a perfect example. I let her leave our driveway and my mind starts rolling with the worst possible things that could happen. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. When I start to feel my heart pound, I stop. I pray. I ask God to take care of whatever it is I'm beginning to stress over and I let it alone. You have no idea how many times this has saved my sanity. I know I can't control situations, but He can. 

Now, get this. I am jealous of people who are OCD about their homes. I am totally not joking. I WISH I could have the gumption to be OCD about cleaning my home and keeping it in perfect order. Crazy, I know. Yet, I am very particular (ha ha...you do realize that "particular" is the OCD person's way of downplaying things?) about many things in my home. I don't put clothes in the dryer. That would be shirts and some pants. I do put certain things in the dryer, but for the most part, I hang things up to dry. If you put something in the dryer that I didn't want in there? It's going to get ugly up in here. My room is a hot mess at the moment because we have a few boxes in there that have some decorations in them, but I need to paint and .....suffice it to say I really need to go work in my room. Someone tell my room mate that I really need to get our room straight. While the room is pretty chaotic, my jewelry is not. Sure, it's scattered on top of the dresser, but I can lay my hands on whatever I'm looking for in a second. I put it all in separate little tiny ziploc bags so that it won't turn (because I wear silver). It's just amazing to me that I can be in such chaos, yet still know where everything is.

I love, almost to the point of obsession, lipstick, shoes, costume jewelry, and expensive hair products. I have been all over the weight spectrum in my life time, and those never let me down. Miss Ma'am, you might be 120 pounds soaking wet, but we can still wear the same lipstick, shoes, jewelry, and use the same hair products so step back. These few items make me feel better and I simply adore them.

I think the reason I haven't really decorated my house more than I have is confidence. I can walk in your house and immediately give you amazing decorating ideas and color choices. I just can't do that here in my own home. I finally decided on colors for the breakfast room/kitchen, dining room, and The Boy's bathroom, but it took a YEAR. There's still too many rooms left to do, man. I doubt every choice I make, every thing I place on a shelf, table, or mantle. Right now I am at war with my living room. I can't find what I call my "furniture zen". That's when my furniture is in the best possible place it can be and when I sit down, I am at peace and enjoying my space. I am constantly looking around and just feeling like everything is just....off. I am almost to the point of having someone come in here while I am gone, let them set it up, come back in and just live with it.

The last thing I'm going to share is that I don't feel like I belong anywhere. Weird, huh? I lived in my hometown or near it for the first 35 years of my life, then moved. I get to this military southeast Georgia town and after a year, start to settle in pretty good. After 3 1/2 years there, I have to move again to another Georgia town. I've been here a year, but I don't feel like I belong here. I call it home because my driver's license tells me this is my address. I call it home because my house with all my stuff is here and my children attend school here. It doesn't FEEL like home. Yet. I'm sure it will eventually. I know I don't feel at home in my hometown anymore. It will always be "home home" for the rest of my life, but I don't want to go back there to live. I think. It's a pretty odd feeling. My husband doesn't have this issue because he's moved around his entire life. He can make where ever he lives his home. My kids seem to be okay here. The oldest misses the last town we lived in and would go back in a heart beat if she could. I know my way around, for the most part, now. Everything isn't strange and scary. I don't get lost and bent out of shape like I did when we first got here. I know people here. I just would like to feel like I belong. That it's okay to put my roots down firmly without fear of them getting ripped out of the ground yet again. I am and always will be a "South Carolina Gal". I just want to be okay with living in Georgia.

There you are, Internets. A few real facts and thoughts from Miss Hope. It's about as real as it gets right there. Just to give you  comfort, I believe I am half crazy some times my own self. What gives me comfort is that all of you are just as crazy in your own right, too.