Faking It

Ok, so.
I love this place. I love this blog. I love this community.
I mean, I know none of us realllllly want to be here, because the ticket in is the worst thing possible. But since we didn't get a choice, we really are lucky.

And I've been thinking lately about how sometimes I think I seriously don't know who I am anymore. I mean, which me am I?

Are you confused yet?

So, I'm not really "out" about my blogging life. I mean, I have a private blog where I post more pictures of A and little things about her life, and I have written about grief there, but it's for my family members and in the beginning when I would start to write about how I really felt, they all thought I was suicidal and were calling to make sure I was still alive. They couldn't handle how dark my thoughts were then.

So I found this. I found here. And I could write possibly the darkest thoughts ever, and people would say, "Hey. Been there. You're not crazy." and most of the time, that's really all we want to hear, right?

So that's how it's been. I blog here for what I really need, and I "blog" there for my family to see a little of what grief is like and some more pictures of A.

Until I started adding a bunch of BLMs to facebook. My mom called and said, "Who is that girl named Brianne that posts on your wall all the time? She seems so nice! Her baby is so cute! How do you know her?"

And I was all...um.....uh.....well, you see.

I seriously imagine that's what it felt like back in the day when it was NOT cool to go online to try to find dates! Ya know, when everyone on the internet was a creepy stalker and really a 60 year old 500 pound man child molester sitting on the computer smoking and eating microwave burritos.

I didn't want to lie. BUT I didn't really want to say, um, well, I met her on the internet? I don't exactly know why-mostly because my mom is kind of old (hehe) and she'd be like, what? who?

And seriously, does she stalk my facebook or what, my mom? I mean, geez!

So I don't even remember what I said. Something like, "Oh, she's my friend from California. You don't know ALL my friends, mother!"

Then I won an AMAZING piece of art from the talented Franchesca at Small Bird Studio. I didn't really want to post a picture of it on here because it is of my last name. Although, I'm not really sure I can even pretend that I'm anonymous on here anymore, anyway. But people are instantly drawn to it and always ask me where I got it.

Why can't I just lie, again? So I say, "Um, well, I won it in this blog contest and well, ya know, and the artist, she uh, she lost a baby, too, and um."

I'm a freak. I've been "out" with my husband since the beginning. I think he never thought it was strange (or at least never told me) because he was so glad that something helped me, he saw how excited I was when I get blog comments and so he wasn't going to question anything. And even this year when I found out we were going to California next summer and suggested maybe meeting one of my BLM friends, he thought that was a great idea! But my mom, my friends, I think-they will think I'm nuts.

So that's one part. Then there's the part of how I'm not sure I feel like I'm being entirely real on here, either! I mean, don't get me wrong-my feelings are real. I'm not exaggerating; I'm not sugar coating. But there is a lot more to me! I'm funny! I laugh a lot! I have interests!

And you guys....I swear! A lot! I have a problem! I walk around my house saying "Bitches and hos!" for NO REASON. There are no bitches and hos here. But I like to say it. I enjoy the word douche.bag ( I think it can be adapted to many situations).

I'm obsessed with the Gilmore Girls. I want to move to Stars Hollow. (It doesn't actually exist-I know this). I'm a sucker for Lifetime Movies. I wanted to be one of the "Friends".

I watch CNN all the time-I love politics and I'm super liberal and get really mad when people are not open-minded.

And I watch Dexter and True Blood! How opposite from the Gilmore Girls! I listen to Eminem AND Phantom of the Opera AND Michael Jackson. I love to scrapbook. I love to read. I love to go to the movies. I love to drive as fast as I can with the music as loud as I can. I'm constantly getting yelled at by my husband because I forget to turn the music down before I turn the radio off and it blasts him when he drives next.

I LOVE to clean. I get totally nuts when there is any sort of clutter at all. A great day for me is re-organizing drawers and closets.

I'm a good teacher. I am on every committee there is. I love the kids.

Bitches and hos! I like to end sentences with a random word. Like a comma, yo. "It's so nice out, yo!" or comma, bitches. "That was such a good movie, bitches!"

I had a verbally/emotionally abusive father. My sister is really my half-sister, which we didn't know until we were 25 and 32. She's cold and stand-offish because my dad was a (get ready for it) total douchebag. I"m oversensitive and cry too much for the same reason.

I don't know.
I don't know why I just typed all of that. But it felt good! I'm both of these people, but I feel like I'm separate. I'm not just. I don't spend all my time grieving.

But I don't swear on here. And I don't tell anyone else my "real" feelings.

I think it's ok. It's ok, right?