Every Sunday, I read Post Secret, which is one of the most amazing websites I’ve ever encountered. I own all of the Post Secret books, have read them multiple times, and yet, I’ve never sent in my own secret.
I think perhaps my secrets are boring, and already public. When one battles with anxiety, depression, and OCD, and one blogs about such issues, one already realizes how public one’s life really is. I’ve been quiet about my issues because I am embarrassed of them, and I hate, so very much, that I’m embarrassed of them.
I’ve spent a long time being embarrassed by myself: my weight, my laugh, my anxiety, to name a few. These things are part of me, they define me, yet I cannot escape my expectation that they need to become better. Instead of learning to live with them, I strive constantly to be without them. This, I believe, is my secret.
I need healthy living, and I don’t mean carrots and celery. I mean acceptance, self-love, and embracing who I am at every level, even if those levels are socially unacceptable.
I need to love me. That’s ultimately, the answer to my secret.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 