Today is Sunday.
Just to let you know.
Sunday mornings generally find us in church. We love our church.
Over the past year or so, though, I've been approached by a few people in our church I don't know. Through friends, they have discovered our little blog. Fortunately for me, they generally have nice things to say about it.
Therein lies the problem.
Not that I mind the nice things they're saying. I love those! Really, I do.
But you see, I... I struggle with something.
(Now you're thinking this is going to be a serious post. The word "struggle" usually evokes thoughts of hardship and perhaps melancholy. Not to worry. While I do struggle with this certain something, it's not like a prayer-request-type struggle. More of a personality quirk. Anyway.)
Here's the thing: I have trouble accepting compliments.
It's an interesting paradox, actually. While I like the warm, squishy feelings they bring about, I also get an uncomfortable, squirmy feeling when someone says something nice to me.
See, if church is the primary location in which we interact, you're already not really seeing me at my best. If you catch me walking into or out of church, I'm likely trying to keep our kids from getting creamed by cars. If I'm dropping off or picking them up from their classrooms, I'm trying to make it look like we're a nice, normal family. You have about a four minute window to catch me in the sanctuary (alright, alright, the auditorium- I have trouble giving up certain churchy things from my youth) when we can actually interact. Plus, we go to a really big church, and really big churches generally have lots of people there, and lots of people make me twitchy and anxious and sometimes irrationally cranky.
I'm not saying you shouldn't talk to me at church. But hey: forewarned is forearmed, right?
So Sunday mornings, I'm already doing my level best to seem as not-strange as possible. Add a compliment? Yes, I'll be grateful and smile, but please realize that you should pretty much disregard anything that comes out of my mouth.
You saying, "I love your blog!" causes my brain to short-circuit, you see. All those nice feelings are washing over me, but they also distract me from my "Keep it together, Kristy, there are other humans here!" Add in the niggling discomfort compliments give me, and the result is rarely good.
My reply may be as relatively innocuous but semi-insulting as "I often forget people might actually read that thing. They just let anyone on the internet, don't they?"
Or it could be as random as "Mexican food's my favorite!" or "These shoes make me look really tall."
More likely it's something like, "Have you seen my kid? I'm pretty sure I'm missing one."
All that to say: I'm sorry, person at church I probably insulted this morning. I'm really glad you're reading, and I think it was so nice (not to mention semi-gutsy) of you to approach a perfect stranger and compliment her. I mean me. Her is me.
Do you see what I mean? All I do is think about a compliment and I'm writing "Her is me."
See you next Sunday!