vulnerable

"I think I talk too much,"

I confess to Parker as I plop my pinhead onto my pillow.

crickets...

"Do you think I talk too much?"

"I think I'm sleepy..."

and just before I start in on my petition that he take this seriously

"...and no.  You don't talk too much."

"But..."

"...but even if you did, I'd still love you."

"I know but..."

"...but what?"

"But...nothing."

"That's what I thought. Goodnight my little chatterbox..."

"Not funny..."

And after a but or two or three more and a couple I love you's we're fast asleep.

I can't tell you how many times we've had this conversation.

For someone who loves the social scene so, you'd think I'd thrive in social settings.

And I do.

I LOVE it!

But because I love it so, I always come away hoping the people I've spent time with came away seeing the night in just as positive a light as I did.

And on those nights when I worry they may not be,

I start to feel very vulnerable

and question my free-thinking and free-speaking open-book approach.

Why do I always put myself so far out there so quickly,

especially when I'm so bent on being everyone's friend?

If you want to be universally liked, you need to play it right.

or do you?

Can you REALLY ever be EVERYONE'S friend?

is it worth it?

or is a take-me-or-leave-me attitude the key to those REAL friendships that bring lasting happiness?

I really don't know.

 Do you have the answer?

Maybe it's me.

It's likely just me.

Though I hope not,

because in confessing this I'm exposing myself to all the vulnerabilities of sharing in the cyber-realm as well.

I am certain our friends and family love us

and love spending time with us.

I never question that fact.

But I just wonder, every now and again, if I make people uncomfortable with how very quickly I become comfortable being 100% me when I'm with them.

By my first 4th of July trip to Richfield I felt like part of the family.

I chattered away with the siblings like their favorite freshman roommate

and/or the energizer bunny on crack.

I chased all the kiddos around the backyard, tackled the task of double-duty swing pushing, cuddled Parker's sweet nieces for the entirety of the parade, and talked smack to the twins like their veteran babysitter

my tendency toward immaturity on full display.

I took the liberty of getting my own glass of water whenever I so pleased, never thinking once that it might be more appropriate to ask, 

"Mr. & Mrs. DeMille, I hate to be a bother but may I please have a glass of water?"

either a testament to their impeccable hospitality and warm welcomes and/or my very obvious lack of guest etiquette.

And very conspicuously expressed my affection for Parker

again, displaying my very apparent lack of future in-law etiquette.

so so sorry Kristy & Tristan.

If only your son weren't so dang cute!

By my six month mark at work my whole branch knew at least a chapter or two of my very open book.

so much for the perpetually professional, happy-go-lucky, highly ambitious, up-and-coming Communications exec image I'd banked on.

I'm too honest,

too silly,

too sarcastic,

too sassy,

and, on rare occasions, just a little too sweet.

I've shared my strengths and weaknesses,

my knowledge and ignorance,

my opinions and indifference,

and my real hopes and fears

all. too. often.

I'm very much myself

and that very much worries me.

By my 3-month mark in Young Women's my presidency could very clearly see what a rookie they'd drafted for their all-star team.

My fall semester had me running every which way.

It quickly became the Kryptonite to my super-leader image.

I can't think of a time when I've felt more transparently human.

I ran into conflicts with activities & class and missed more presidency meetings than I care to count.

I scrambled to assemble lessons I'd spaced on one too many Sunday mornings.

And exhibited less-than-stellar communication skills with the Mia Maid leaders from each of the other wards

talk about awesome first impressions.

I sliced the celery wrong for our first combined activity.

I don't think there's any coming back from that.

And as far as censorship goes, let's not forget my antics in planning and participating in the many Friday & Saturday nights we've spent with our friends.

I say what I think without thinking.

I ask questions and tackle topics that'd make you blush.

I play the role of sass-master so incredibly well I wonder why no one's slapped me silly.

And before the night's even done, I'm penciling myself in on everyone's calendar and sending out save-the-dates for the next big event.

This list goes on and on.

Whether it's my taking the liberty of munching three pieces of toast at Lara's like a little puerco,

in case it's not entirely clear, puerco is spanish for pig.

oink! oink! 

or my running sprinting with Ashlee's offer to be the big-sister-I-never-had nearly a year before she and Jason even said "I do,"

or my laughable honeymoons-for-dummies chats with my very best of friends,

I think it's safe to say that talking too much is the least of my worries.

But no matter how many nights I come home and wonder how I might have better presented myself, my ideas, my thoughts, or my image,

I'm grateful that in being so open, I might just be someone people can 
talk to, 

confide in, 

laugh with, 

laugh at, 

open up to, 

and be silly, 

candid, 

honest, 

and ultimately real with.

Anyone who really knows me knows I am so very far from perfect.

And that's exactly how it should be.

No fronts,

no facades, 

no feigned happiness, forced conversation, or false pictures of propriety here.

It's just me.

And if you like me for being me,

I'll bet I'll like you for being you too.


and THOSE are the best kinds of friendships I could ever hope to find and keep.
don't you think?
:)