I’ve never sent a PostSecret postcard. Rather, I’ve been a quiet reader … a virtual voyeur … a blog-o-sphere bystander to people’s carded confessions. I am frequently amazed at the depths people are willing to share. And I am blown away by how the poignant ones stick with me.
But then again, I recognize that this little tiny corner of the Web is probably one of the most cathartic places in the entire world. And I expect some people have experienced a great sense of relief to have put their burdens on a post-card and dropped in a mailbox to send off into the world … far, far away.
Part of me feels that nothing of mine is nearly as piquant as what you find on Sunday morning. But if I had to send a postcard, it might be one of these:
- I dated an alcoholic for 10 months. I made myself boot whenever we were together because I thought I had to “keep up”.
- Helter-skelter dishwasher loading drives me completely batty. I will rearrange immediately upon discovery. Regardless of whose dishwasher it is.
- My favorite summer was not the summer we met & started dating, but the next summer (after we broke up) and I spent Thursday evenings on my porch with girlfriends and wine.
- I frequently dream about life as a kept woman or a full-time mother, from my big desk as general counsel in a company.
- To all the people I used to house-sit for when I was in high school: I’m sorry. I ate the “brownies.” I broke the lamp (well, my drunk friend actually fell into it while puking behind the couch). I engaged in oral sex on your bed.
Of course, finding the right postcard to accompany your outpouring is half the battle. After all, who makes a postcard featuring a dishwasher?
Have a blessed, festive, and memorable weekend!