I’m kind of a liar.

I started writing because I needed to get some things out. I needed therapy but was too stubborn to actually go. So I started writing about all the things that are screwed up with me.
I just wrote about whatever I wanted and was fairly careless about what I said because I had nothing to lose.
I mean, I had absolutely nothing to lose.

Weird things happened.
I found out you were kind of screwed up too.

We got each other.
We realized we weren’t alone.
Bonds started forming and friendships were made.
I kept writing.

But somewhere along the way I got careful.
I got scared you’d leave or wouldn’t like me anymore.
So I pulled back a little.

I have things to lose now.
I wrote a book, The Con Man’s Daughter. It’s a freaking good book but I’ve been too afraid to tell you because I don’t want to seem vain or arrogant. But listen, it’s a damn good book and you should go buy it right now, buy 10 if you’re feeling frisky. I want you to read it. Buy it here!
I want you to buy it because writing it is my job and I want to make money. There, I said. It feels wrong to say. But I also want you to buy it and read it because it’s good and it’s healing and just go buy it because it’s HALF OFF.
I’ve been afraid to say that because I’m afraid you’ll roll your eyes and leave.

Buy the book or I’ll shank you! I’m kidding, I’m too tired to get out of my pajamas.

I tip toe around on my public facebook, careful of how I word things or how I come off. Yes, my public Facebook, because on my private I’m a mess. And you know what, I’m freaking funny, like legit funny but I’m afraid that if I’m a mess to you then you’ll leave. I’m afraid if I tell you that I lose my shizzle on my kids sometimes you’ll think poorly of me or if you find out I make my kids frozen waffles for breakfast 99% of the time you’ll say I’m a way below average mom, and you’d be right. Hell, I once wrote that I fed my kids Lunchables and people lost their ever loving minds on me. The internet is scary, y’all.
I only post the pretty pictures publicly and say nice things about my family because I want you to like me.

I feel like I have things to lose now so I’m careful.
I’ve been obsessing about numbers; book sales, followers, shares, and all that crap that doesn’t define me. It’s kept me up at night. I cried for 24 hours straight after watching my interview on The 700 Club yesterday. Why? Because they didn’t mention my book in the interview and some of my friends said it made me look sappy, that it didn’t show my spunk. So I cried, that’s how self absorbed I’ve become.

My book wasn’t written so I could get rich, a paycheck is nice, but I wrote it because someone needs to read it and know that there is hope and healing and that they aren’t alone. But I let that part get away from me. I made it about me and it’s not, none of it is.
I’m over it.
It’s exhausting and deflating and I’m beating myself up over here and none of it is why I started writing in the first place.

I started writing because I needed to and it somehow let you know that you aren’t alone in what you’re going through. It formed a bond and we became friends. Then I started faking crap around you and I’m sorry.

Go buy my book, for real. It’s good. It shows what a total mess I am but that it’s okay and Jesus loves me and I’m still standing.
Hang out with me on facebook if you want, I’ll probably not use the best language and clearly my grammar sucks but it’s facebook so who cares.

But I’ve got to love myself more than I’ve been ..
I need to allow myself to enjoy who I am and what I’ve accomplished without freaking out over numbers.
I gotta let go of who I’ve been pretending to be and start being me.

I’m sucking wind over here trying to be a good wife and parent, probably failing more than succeeding. I’m pretending to be a writer and I keep comparing myself to everyone else who does what I do but seems to be flying much higher than I am.   I love Jesus and fail at glorifying his sweet name in everything I do, because I’m human.

I’m going to embrace all of that and just be me. Sorry for lying to you, I just needed you to like me.