Dear friend I haven’t seen in years, I am avoiding you on purpose.
Some people are energized and excited by things like class reunions, rekindling old friendships, or meeting up with someone they haven’t seen in years. That idea is paralyzing to me.
I legitimately duck into aisles and behind sales racks in a store back home to avoid eye contact with someone from my graduating class. Friends, it’s not personal.
Through laughs in high school, those of us who were slightly less than popular joked about how our mediocre lives would work out fine because one day the head cheerleader would get pregnant and the football players would be fat. The reality of it is that maybe they did, but that would just make them relate to me more.
Since high school, I’ve set and achieved goals. I have married a great man. I have had two incredible children. And I have gained a considerable amount of weight.
It is crazy how quickly I dismiss all of the great things for which I should be proud in light of what I see as a glaring failure.
Friend, I avoid you on purpose. I am afraid. I assume.
I assume you will judge. I assume you will laugh. I assume you have a Pinterest-perfect life and your shine will be dulled in the presence of my dusty reality.
I am sorry. My assumptions are unfair.
I am learning that everyone has their cob-webby spaces. There are parts of every beautifully fit mama’s life that she is afraid people will find out about. She is ashamed or fearful. So am I, mamas. My shame is just more visible than some others’.
So, friend I haven’t seen in years, I am working through this. I pray you won’t pass judgement or cast stones but that you will listen and relate even if your missteps don’t look the same. I promise to do my best to come out from behind the pallet wood signs and home decor at Target.
I am a wife, a mama, a writer, a teacher, and a lover of all things outdoors. I live tiny, love big, and laugh always. I write because it’s cheaper than therapy and everyone needs that funny girlfriend they can vent to at 3am over nugget sauce-stained yoga pants and a box of wine. Seriously, you’re welcome! Check out more on The Mama On The Rocks!