We portray perfect. We act like we have it all together. We act like we have it all figured out. Picture-perfect.
I believe we’re all a mess.
Some own it and show it. Some hide it.
You walk into somebody’s house. Well put together. Taken care of. Clean. Well maintained. Looks good.
What’s behind the walls? How’s the foundation?
You lift the rug up. A mess was swept under it.
You open a closet door. You see skeletons.
Why do we hide our mess? Why do we hide our skeletons?
What are we afraid of? Being ourselves? Not being liked? Getting in trouble? Being embarrassed?
I’m not proud of all of my words and actions. I have my messes and my skeletons. I have my secrets. 🤫
I do like being open though. I do value honesty and transparency.
But I’m not perfect. There are things I hide. There are things I don’t share.
I’d like to share them.
If you think I’m crazy now, you may really think I’m crazy. 🤪
We can clean and polish our house when somebody comes to visit. We can do the same with our lives.
I prefer to keep it raw and real. Like me or not, I prefer you know the real me.