I know the blogosphere does not need another post about BlogHer and I know that Babe Chilla will probably excommunicate me for writing this. But I had a meltdown last night and this needs to be written.
I’m really, ridiculously, blinders-on excited about BlogHer.
Y’all, I haven’t been as excited as I am right now since three weeks before Joshua got here. And before that, I hadn’t been really excited about anything since our wedding.
The only two other “big” anticipated events in my life were getting the acceptance letter to the University of My Choice (my only choice, truth be told) and then getting into the College of Education after getting screwed by the system for nearly two years.
(Obviously, meeting Dan was a pretty big deal, but I didn’t anticipate that to happen. I didn’t have my hopes up that I’d go out one night and meet “The One.”)
I’m not the girl who had this happy, carefree, sheltered, sleepaway-camp-in-the-summer-and-matching-Christmas-pajamas-with-hot-cocoa-and-marshmallows life. Experiences like this just don’t happen to me.
So when good things do happen, when things happen that I get excited about, they feel like pretty huge freaking deals.
But maybe they’re only huge deals to me.
Last night I told Dan I wish he knew the girl I was in high school.
She sang. She danced. She acted.
She was scared of nothing.
Nothing could stop her.
Nothing and no one held her back or got in her way.
I’m not that girl.
I got so broken at some point along the way that I stopped taking chances. I stopped trying new things. I got scared of trying them, in fact, because taking chances ended in being let down.
I’m scared right now. Terrified, really.
Not that people won’t like me, or that I won’t fit in, or that my clothes will be wrong, or that my hair won’t look right.
I’m just scared, in general, of putting myself out there.
Of taking chances.